Blade of Moonlight

In a world of darkness, she is his light. A Midnight Justice Story It’s a dark and stormy night, and Luna Masters is in...

Author: Dean Kimberly

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In a world of darkness, she is his light. A Midnight Justice Story It’s a dark and stormy night, and Luna Masters is in trouble. Buttoned-up court reporter by day, by night she fights crime as Luminescence, drawing power from the moon. No moon, no power…and she’s about to pay with her life. As her consciousness dims, a man steps from the shadows. But he’s no savior. It’s Scythe, a villain whose reputation for evil is legend. When she awakens, at first she’s surprised to be alive. Then enraged to find herself tied to his bed. Naked. Scythe is livid. A minor superhero like Luna has no business on his turf, and he plans to enjoy administering punishment, Yet somewhere in the night, pain turns into pleasure…then into something wicked and sexy that shakes them both to the core. Though Scythe warns her away, Luna’s passion for justice draws her back into the dark, to her masked lover’s side. For good, or evil? Only the dawn will tell… Warning: Pow! In the clash of good versus evil, villains don’t play nicely. Bam! When captured, superheroines often get tied up. Kablooie! Hot sex may cause mayhem with your e-reader.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 Blade of Moonlight Copyright © 2012 by Kimberly Dean ISBN: 978-1-60928-928-7 Edited by Sasha Knight Cover by Kanaxa All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: May 2012 www.samhainpublishing.com

Blade of Moonlight Kimberly Dean

Chapter One

The warm summer night weighed on Luna as she tread quietly through the back alleys of Newcropolis. The humidity in the air made it hard to breathe, and her clothes clung to her skin. Smells from dumpsters clashed with the reek of alcohol and urine, but the stench stayed trapped close to the ground, unable to rise and disperse. Breathing through her mouth, she edged along the brick buildings towards her destination. The darkness of the night emphasized the closed-in feeling, and she glanced anxiously at the sky. The thin wedge visible between the tall downtown buildings was black as coal. Only a few stars peeked through, and definitely not the moon. It was at low crescent tonight and not yet high enough on the horizon. Heat lightning suddenly crackled. The streaks spread out like an electrified spider web, highlighting the underside of the fat, low-hanging clouds. It was those clouds that put a shiver down her spine. A few she could handle. Total overcast would blot out her powers, meager as they were tonight. She checked her palm unit. Sneaky Nick was still at the Crying Foul. He’d have to leave there soon if her intel was correct, but would it be before the sky was totally socked in? She judged the clouds again. Nick was true to his name; he was one sneaky son of a bitch. This might be the only opportunity she had to bring him in. Putting her chin down, she pressed onward. She was pushing it, she knew, but she just couldn’t give up when she was this close. She’d been tracking him

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for weeks, but every time she’d thought he was in her grasp, he’d somehow managed to evade her. The risk was worth it. She concentrated on her task. She didn’t need that much time. All she had to do was shine the light on him and notify others of his location. Ideally, if he moved on the schedule her source had indicated, she could shine that light while he was in the act of robbing Bell King Jewelers. Nearing the back of the shop, she evaluated her options. Smelly as it was, the shadow beside the dumpster behind the Chinese restaurant next door would provide the best cover. Swinging her dark cape around herself, she crouched and hid. Time seemed to split as she waited. On the ground, it slowed to a halt. No breezes flowed. The club down the alley pumped out the same music over and over again. Even the rats scurrying for food were sleepy and slow. Nick was taking his time. The storm wasn’t. The clouds barreled in, thickening above her. They crowded together as the rumble of thunder came closer and closer. Luna kept her gaze plastered on the one remaining star she could spot. A star meant there were still holes in the cloud cover and the power of the moon could find its way to her. The star blinked out…then came back… It had just gone out again when a rat in the middle of the alley jerked its head. Detecting something, it scurried under the dumpster next to her, and her senses went on high alert. She peered into the darkness, searching for movement, while her ears hunted for the slightest sound. It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps. As quiet as the unseen visitor was trying to be, his approach echoed off the bricks behind her.

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Blade of Moonlight

She waited until she heard the scratch of metal against metal. A lock was being picked. Adrenaline pulsing, she looked to the sky. One star… She just needed one… There! Spreading her cape wide, she stepped out of her hiding place. Reaching deep inside, she sought her power. She was used to it waxing and waning. Tied to the moon, it was ever in flux. She’d learned how to adjust and use what she had. Tonight was no different. Flipping back the hood of her cape, she let her white-blonde hair show and lifted her face. The power was dim, barely a spark, but it was there. A low beam of bluish light emanated from her and radiated towards the man trying to break in to the jewelry store. Flinching at the glow, Sneaky Nick turned towards her. Fear made his eyes bug as he stared, but his brow furrowed and those beady eyes narrowed as his expression changed to anger. “On low beams tonight, Luminescence?” Fingers of warning trailed down the back of Luna’s neck, but she couldn’t show weakness. “I save the high beams for the big fish, Nicky.” Her light wasn’t her only power. Like the moon’s gravity controlled the tides of oceans around the world, she held the power of attraction. Only she didn’t pull water, she pulled people. She just needed to focus on him until the authorities or one of her cohorts closed in on the scene. Twitching, Nick looked up and down the alleyway. With one last reluctant glance at the jewelry store door, he began backing away from her. She followed, sweat beading her brow. She couldn’t let him out of her sight. If he ran before someone came, all her work would have been in vain.


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It took a moment before she realized it wasn’t sweat on her forehead, but raindrops. Those fingers of dread at the back of her neck wrapped around her throat, and her steps faltered. Breathing deeply, ignoring the stench, she struggled to keep her light glowing. Nick might seem like an insignificant weasel, but he was dangerous, and she was alone with him in a dark, desolate alleyway. She clung to the wavering energy. She had to hang on. She focused on him, emitting what light she could, even as the rain intensified. Her hair dulled as it grew damper, clinging to her neck and her shoulders. She searched with her senses for anyone, anything that could come to her aid. She knew the exact moment when the cloud cover bunched together and blocked out the source of her power. It wasn’t the rain splattering down on her face or the earsplitting thunder overhead. It was the fatigue that shot through her, robbing her of her breath. Her arms dropped to her sides and her knees wobbled. She’d forced too much. She’d dug too deep. Now she was going to pay. Realizing the trouble she was in, she grabbed for the taser she kept on her hip. She was too late. Sneaky Nick hit her like a freight train, slamming her backwards. She toppled over, landing awkwardly on a moldy, moth-eaten mattress that hadn’t made it into the nearby trash bin. She bounced back up, but Nick already had her by the throat.

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Circling behind her, he knocked her taser to the ground and tightened his stranglehold. “Do you know how sick and tired I am of having you do-gooders follow me?” His fingers bit into her neck, and stars dotted her vision. They weren’t the good stars, the ones that might guide her to her powers. These were red and white sparks flashing before her eyes. “And a low-level heroine like you,” Nick scoffed. “You know what you are, honey? Bait.” Luna struggled to think. Desperate, she slammed her heel down on the man’s instep. Rain had slickened his shoe, though, and she slid right off. Jamming her finger upwards towards his eyes, she tried a different attack. He caught her wrist in his free hand and merely laughed. “I know how you work, baby.” His hips swiveled against her in a slimy caress. The rain was coming in a steady downpour now, and they were both drenched and panting. “You get yourself in trouble and you call for help. Then the real superheroes come flying in to save the helpless little woman.” His finger slid down her bare stomach. “They’re probably hoping they can score a piece of ass in return. Do you do that, golden girl? Is that how you keep all the big strong men at your beck and call? You certainly dress like it.” His breaths were hot and wet against her ear. “I could find some uses for you—if only you hadn’t pissed me off. This was supposed to be a big score for me tonight.” His forearm lifted, pulling in and up, making her rise on her tiptoes. “Bitch.” Luna clawed at his arm and kicked backwards at his shins. Her throat felt tight and raw, compressed. Opening her lips, she struggled to breathe, but rain filled her mouth, choking off the thin breaths she was able to take.


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It occurred to her in her fragmented thoughts that she was going to die here, in this deserted, smelly alley…with a man named Sneaky Nick at her side…and a hungry rat at her feet… The thunder of her pulse in her ears quieted. Or maybe that was the thunder overhead… Her knees sagged. Lightning flashed behind her eyelids. Or maybe it was in front of them. It was too hard to tell. Footsteps echoed down the alleyway, and she dreamed she heard a shout. Her heart leapt at the thought of rescue, but it slowed again at the lack of oxygen. Another roar blended with the constant ringing in her ears, and her last support disappeared. She crumpled to the ground atop Nick. Greedily, she sucked in air. Valuable, delicious air. She couldn’t get enough, but the prickle at the back of her neck wasn’t leaving. Sneaky Nick… She had to get him in her sights. She rolled off him but couldn’t find the energy to run or stand or even crawl. Yet he didn’t follow. Confused, she stared down at the man who’d just tried to kill her. He was a lifeless heap sprawled out on the moldy mattress. There was red pooling beneath him. Was that blood? Adrenaline surged and she scrambled back, getting only a few feet away from him before her strength vanished. What had just happened? How had he ended up there? And why wasn’t he moving? The prickling at the back of her neck spread until her entire body was quivering in warning. On her knees, Luna looked up. Unable to support her head, her neck tilted back. A dark shadow hovered over her, big and lurking. Thunder crashed and lightning struck almost simultaneously. The bright light illuminated the figure in front of her, and her eyes widened in the rain before

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drifting shut. Her gasp stuck in her damaged throat. She’d pulled someone to her, all right, but not someone she wanted. Terror clutched at her gut even as she tilted sideways onto the gritty, dirtcovered cement. She patted the ground, looking in vain for her taser. This man wasn’t one of her own. He wasn’t one of the do-gooders, but the worst of the worst. A big fish. She’d gone from low-level thug to the deadliest blade of them all. Words couldn’t squeeze through her throat. In the end, only her lips moved. “Scythe.” Then everything went black.


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Chapter Two

The cloud was soft underneath her. The air smelled pure and clean. The rumble of thunder had been silenced, and the blinding lightning was gone. When Luna awoke it was dark, but she felt calm, safe and at peace, just like a soul new to heaven should. But her throat still hurt. She swallowed with care. Shouldn’t her pain be gone? Wasn’t that one of the benefits of the afterlife? She’d always been told that when one passed on, pain disappeared and troubles drifted away like clouds on the horizon. Make that pains. She shifted in discomfort. The cloud underneath her supported her like a protective palm, but her knees stung where gravel had dug into them. She took a moment to evaluate. Her shoulder ached, too, from her off-balanced fall in that dirty alley. She’d been pushed, hadn’t she? Yes. The memory became clearer. Sneaky Nick had shoved her down and then picked her up by the throat. No wonder it burned. She swallowed again, unable to stop the impulse. It burned like the fires of hell. Her sense of peace began to waver as the memory refused to go away. He’d pushed her down, but then they’d both fallen. She’d fallen atop Sneaky Nick, their bodies pressing together slick and wet. The hair on her arms rose. Sneaky Nick… What had happened to him? When she remembered the blood, she sucked in a sharp breath and immediately regretted it. The air felt like shards of glass jabbing into her

Blade of Moonlight

esophagus. Opening her eyes, she stared into the unending darkness. Whoever had told her about the bliss of heaven should be kicked. The pain wasn’t gone and the memories were rampant. Unless she hadn’t gone to heaven. She stilled. Where, exactly, was she? She looked around, but everything was dark. Pitch as night. She went to push her hair back from her face but was surprised when her wrists wouldn’t move. She pulled harder, but they wouldn’t budge. Fear bubbled inside her, thick and oily. She tried to roll onto her side, but her legs were hindered too. Something bound her ankles. Inhaling sharply and ignoring the biting pain in her throat, she sat up straight—only to find she couldn’t make it that far. A choked rasp escaped her. She wasn’t dead. She hadn’t gone to heaven. She was tied up. Her fingers straightened, searching for what held her. She touched wood and traced its lines. They were dowels of some sort, decorative from the feel, but sturdy. It was a headboard! She was bound to a bed. Her eyes popped open wide as her senses became more acute. She was tied naked to a bed. Her rough pants echoed around the unfamiliar room. She could feel the soft stroke of the sheet that covered her—the sheet that had been pulled up to her throat but had slipped down to her breasts with her exertions. The material sat perched on her nipples, and she froze when she realized its precarious position. Much more movement and that sheet would slip, exposing her. To what, though? To whom? Bits and pieces of memories seeped into her confused brain. She might have lacked oxygen for a while, but she knew what she’d seen. She knew who had stood over her at the end. A predator.


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Scythe. Her heart began pounding so hard, the sheet fluttered. Her head turned from side to side as she attempted to judge the seriousness of her situation. Where was she? What could she use to defend herself? A knife. She needed her knife or her taser. She had to escape before he came back. She had to— Click. The sound was soft, but its impact was louder than the full-throated thunder that had rocked her earlier. With it came a dim light and fear itself. Her gaze locked on gray eyes. He was in the room, sitting in a chair in the far corner. He’d been with her all along, watching her in the silence. And he looked livid. A shudder went down Luna’s spine, curling her toes. Her powers were no match for him, even at full charge, but this was worse. He had her at his mercy on a moonless night. He’d stripped her of her man-made weapons and her clothes. He’d trussed her up naked on a bed in a room she’d never seen. She pulled at her restraints, feeling every muscle protest. Why hadn’t he just killed her? Why had he brought her here? Nothing good came to mind, and fear turned her taste metallic. What was he going to do to her? “You deserve to feel that fear, lightness.” Even his voice brought goose bumps to her skin. It was soft and lethal, like the steel blade he carried that gave him his name. “You need to learn to heed its warning,” he continued. “You ignored it earlier tonight.” That gray gaze stroked down her body, lingering where the sheet dangled so close to the edge. “Look where that mistake has gotten you.”

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Luna was frozen with fear. Ice and heat alternated through her veins, but she forced herself to think past the paralyzing terror. She twisted her wrists, searching for a weakness in her bindings. Her ankles felt clamped tight, but the material circling her wrists was soft and lightweight—and unforgiving. Her unwanted companion looked over his shoulder. Pulling back the shade that covered the window, he glanced outside. Now that she was awake, she could hear the rain splattering against the glass. Washing away the dirt and grime… Cleaning away all the evidence… “Is he dead?” Her voice wasn’t quite right. She licked her lips and felt the man across the room watch the unconscious motion. Suddenly, she was very conscious of it and every other motion she made, every breath she took and every pinch against her restrained skin. “Sneaky Nick?” “He should be.” Again, the man’s gaze slid over her, lingering on her bare shoulders and the exposed curves of her breasts. “For what he did to you, he deserved death.” He shrugged uncaringly. “He should be in the hospital by now. I heard the sirens of your compatriots—the ones you wanted to come to your rescue.” Their gazes connected, and Luna couldn’t look away. He had rescued her. He’d taken Sneaky Nick down without a second thought, but instead of doing away with her, too, he’d kidnapped her. For what reason, though? Did he want her secrets? Did he think she knew the plans her side was making to take him and those like him down? She’d give him nothing. Because, loathe as she was to admit it, she didn’t know anything. The man known as Scythe rubbed his thumb slowly across his lower lip in contemplation. She knew she should be doing something. She should be talking


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her way out of this mess. He’d already saved her. He wouldn’t bring her here just to hurt her himself, would he? Reality struck. Of course, he would. He’d already stripped her and tied her to a bed. What more did she need to tell her his intentions? Her thighs clenched, but the straps around her ankles held fast. This man didn’t have a conscience. None of the criminals who were dirtying her city did. She watched him intently, knowing she had to keep her senses sharp. If she got out of this alive, she had to find some way to identify him, one clue that would lead the authorities back to him or this hideaway where he’d stowed her. How long did he plan to keep her? For the night? Longer? The stone of her necklace was cold and heavy where it lay against her chest, between her breasts. Her power might be her only hope, but it wouldn’t come back for several nights. He stood in one fluid motion. Luna flinched, and the sheet shifted. She lay still as the man who was such a threat to her began to move around the room. Every time he neared his weapon, she thought it was her end, but he left it perched against the corner. When it became apparent that he didn’t intend to gut her, her fear subsided enough that she could concentrate on details. He’d taken off his Grim Reaper cape, she realized. Somehow, it didn’t lessen his formidability in the least. When he’d stood over her in the alley, she’d kowtowed before him. He might not look like death’s servant now, but he was still danger personified. He prowled around the room, his big body moving silkily, lethally. His size didn’t hinder him. He knew how to move silently and quickly. How could she defend herself against someone this deadly? Sneaky Nick had been right about one thing. She wasn’t strong enough to fight someone like Scythe.

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“What were you thinking going out on a night like this?” The words lashed across the room. The tone startled Luna, but she refused to answer. When she saw his lips compress, she changed her mind. Most of all, she didn’t need to make him angrier. “I was thinking I could catch Nick in the act. I knew where he was going to be, and the storm hadn’t moved in yet.” “But the moon is barely out tonight.” Scythe was suddenly at her bedside, towering over her. “That’s where you get your power, lightness, isn’t it?” Her mouth snapped shut. He could know that from her name, but she refused to give him any more information that could come back to harm her. Her heart leapt when he reached out and stroked two fingertips down her breastbone. Softly, slowly… “I thought you dusted yourself with some kind of powder or chemical, but it’s your skin, isn’t it?” Luna was having trouble breathing, but this time Sneaky Nick’s menacing clutch had nothing to do with it. That touch. A cool, intense kind of heat radiated from Scythe’s fingertips. He was stroking her skin as if enthralled with its feel, up and down her breastbone. The stroking continued, across her shoulder and up her neck. He combed through her hair, but his fingers stilled in the light strands, rubbing them back and forth between his fingertips. “You reflect the moon’s light, don’t you, Luminescence?” No, that wasn’t it, but he was close. She was one with the moon. As it behaved, so did she, but he could never know that about her. His fingers slid down her breastbone again, and her breaths hitched when he traced the line of the sheet, dangerously close to her nipples. He watched the soft material tent, knowing what he was doing to her. Their gazes connected but, still, she refused to give him anything.


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He turned to the hardwood chair beside the bed. She hadn’t even noticed it until he lifted a scrap of material. The bra of her costume dangled from his finger. Her clothes! His jaw hardened as he toyed with the skimpy top. “That’s why you run around the city in barely more than a bikini, so you can use your power to its full potential. More skin equals more light.” Her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth as she struggled not to say anything. He was getting too close to the truth. Her costume wasn’t so much of a style choice, but a necessity. Under a full moon, she could bring down criminals with only her face and her hands bare. But on a night like this— Her face. Her head whipped to the side, and she searched the chair, hoping against hope. Her stomach dropped when she spotted her mask draped across its high back. The strip of black material might cover only her eyes, but it had protected her identity. Until now. He’d seen her face. He dropped the bikini top and picked up the black bottoms. They were made of a synthetic material, giving her the lightness and maneuverability of spandex, but the toughness of leather. Using both hands, he stretched them, watching them pull shorter to compensate, and shook his head in a strange combination of anger and disgust. And undisguised interest. “And more skin equals more skin. That helps rattle the boys, too, doesn’t it?” His head cocked. “What if you’re going up against a villainess?” Some of them were distracted, too, but she wasn’t going to go there. Luna glared at him belligerently. Identify him. He knew what she looked like, right down to the birthmark on her right hip. He’d stripped her of everything she had. She had to find a way to expose him.

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Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to go on. He was big, built and sexy. Her thoughts stalled. She shouldn’t find him attractive—not with the situation he’d put her in—but she did. Adrenaline and pheromones were creating a dangerous chemistry. She had to be careful or she’d get pulled into the reaction. He held her belt now, the one she normally kept wrapped low around her hips. Everything she needed was on that belt, and she ached for it. Her serrated knife, her palm unit and her taser. Her gaze stuck on the weapon. He’d grabbed her taser for her? “The boots,” he said gruffly as he crouched. Luna cringed. For some reason, his examination of her belongings was as personal as if he’d been going over her naked body inch by inch—which she wasn’t quite sure wasn’t next. She wanted to pull everything back, to hide from his attention. “The boots are something else, though, aren’t they?” His gray gaze suddenly locked with hers. “They get you off.” Under the covers, her toes curled. How did he know that? How could he have figured that out? Low-heeled boots or runner’s shoes would have been more feasible, more practical. They had just looked so stupid with her skimpy costume, but the high-heeled black boots? They’d made her cream. She swallowed again, and this time found her mouth wet with saliva. “The stilettos make good weapons.” “Meaning they bring down any man with a healthy dick.” He knew he was right. There was a hint of a dark smile on his lips as he looked at her, and Luna was frustrated she couldn’t see more of his face. He might have gotten rid of the Grim Reaper cape, but his head and torso were covered with a form-fitted, one-piece spandex shirt and ski-mask type of garment. It covered the back of his head and came down over his nose and eyes.


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Only the lower half of his face was revealed, showing a strong jaw and hard lips. Those lips mocked her now. “Whatever works,” she snapped. The words were out before she could stop them, and they surprised her. She shouldn’t encourage him. She shouldn’t play along—not in this. “Oh, they do, sweetheart.” He glanced at the front of his dark jeans and shifted in discomfort. “They definitely do.” He took another harsh breath that seemed to fuel his anger. With a curse, he began to stride around the room again. “What goes on in that head of yours? What makes you think you can go strutting around half-naked—hell, threequarters naked—in the most dangerous parts of the city and be safe?” Outrage hit her. She didn’t strut. When she was out at night, she was fully intent on her work. “You know that I have a cape too. It covers me from head to foot.” “Until you whip it off and give everyone a good look.” Her teeth ground together. That was to shine the attention on the bad guys— not herself. She did everything she could to keep herself in the background. She knew how to merge with the darkness. She’d always been smart and safe. Until now. He turned on her, looming over the end of the bed where her legs were spread wide under the thin sheet. “Do you know what some of those scumbags would do to you if they caught you?” Her stomach clenched, and her outrage dimmed. The real question was, what was he going to do with her? She watched him unblinkingly, afraid to move, afraid to say anything that would make him more upset than he already was. His lips might mock her, but his fingers were clenched and his breaths heaved. The stretchy material of his

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costume clung to a chest that was heavily muscled. In the dark shadows, each hard curve and dip was delineated. His uniform kept him as covered as she was left bared, and the disparity struck her. Dark versus light. Good versus evil. Her need to see his face grew to a craving. She wanted to know the color of his hair. Was it thick and silky? Dark and wavy? She wanted to touch that chest, with nothing between her fingertips and his skin. And she knew it was wrong. All of it. He hadn’t rescued her. He’d pulled her further into the depths of danger. All that darkness might be seductive, but temptations were rarely good for you. She knew this man was bad for her, right down to his core. “I’ll have you put away for this,” she said quietly. “I’ll have you put away for life.” His expression went even darker. “You and what army?” “The justice system will be enough.” A bark of laughter escaped him, the sound rusty and harsh. He moved again and suddenly he was over her, his hands braced on either side of her pillow. “If you believe that, then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.” His body hovered inches above hers, close but still too far away. Her body tingled, wanting what it shouldn’t. Then his hand was fisting in the sheet, his knuckles pressing hard between her breasts. When he ripped the covering off her, it was like being splashed with chilled air. He tossed the sheet aside, baring her all the way to her cuffed ankles and pink-painted toenails. Luna arched, wanting to run, wanting to hide, but there was no escape. His big hand covered one breast, and that cool heat poured through her. “Are you out there fighting for truth and justice, Luminescence, or does the danger just turn you on?” “You won’t win,” she gasped.


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“The hell I won’t.” He squeezed her nipple hard, but then his touch was gone. It reappeared, lower and hotter. He cupped her pussy and ground the ball of his hand against her. Luna’s thighs quivered. With her legs spread wide, he could touch her however he liked, whenever he liked. Her hips pressed into the mattress as he slid his thumb between her soft, delicate folds. When he lifted it, it was wet. “What is it that gets you going?” he asked, his voice going steely. “Danger, or me?” She couldn’t respond. What he was doing was shocking, titillating, and she shouldn’t like it. Couldn’t like it. It went against everything she believed in, everything she’d put herself on the line for, but she couldn’t dispute the evidence. He bent down over her, his gray eyes turning pewter. “Danger?” He swirled his thumb deliberately around her clit. “Or me?” She tried to pull away, but the bindings were too tight. Her body was stretched too taut. And that touch! Oh God. The truth was that it was both danger and him that had her body humming. He glared at her, his jaw hard as granite, until he finally moved. This time, there was no evading him. Leaning down, he opened his mouth on hers and kissed her like the avenger he was. Luna braced herself but sank into the pillow when he didn’t attack. The kiss…it wasn’t hurtful or punishing. It was aggressive, but it wasn’t overpowering. It was…sexy. Oh, God. Sexy as sin and temptation and everything she wanted but couldn’t have. A rumble left the back of his throat, and his tongue darted out to lick the seam between her lips. Heaven help her, but she opened them. His tongue filled her mouth, dark and potent. Timidly, rebelliously, she licked her tongue over his.

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The rumble that bubbled up this time was deeper, untamed. The hand between her legs clenched, and her hips surged. A sound escaped her, a hungry, desperate whimper. She shouldn’t want this. She needed to fight. He was the enemy. When his knee pressed into the mattress and the bed rocked, she knew that she’d fallen into the enemy’s hands. His thumb moved off her clit. It pressed against her opening, slick and strong, and she shuddered. Before she could order him to stop or beg him to continue, it slid up inside her, spreading her and rubbing hard against the side of her pussy’s walls. “Scythe.” It was supposed to be a protestation. It came out as a plea. That strong thumb worked inside her, pushing her into a state of frenzy. Luna strained at her bindings, her wrists twisting. She wanted to be free. She had to push him off. She had to touch him. He shook his head. “Say what you will about the slutty outfit, but you’ve got the body to pull it off. Damn, baby.” His mouth closed over her breast, hot and rabid. He suckled her ravenously, and Luna’s neck arched against the pillow. “Scythe.” “That’s it, say my name as I fuck you hard, little heroine.” His teeth raked against her with enough nip to light up her nerve endings. “Who’s the bad guy, lightness?” He was. He was a demon in black. Her nipple throbbed inside his suctioning mouth, and her pussy was on fire. His thumb circled inside her slowly, working her higher and higher. She pressed up against his body, needing the contact, needing to touch. She felt the slick, stretchy fabric of his costume as their stomachs touched. The denim of his jeans chafed the inside of her thighs. The only places he


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allowed skin-on-skin contact were her erogenous zones, and it was driving her crazy. Struggling with her bindings, she rubbed against him, trying to find relief. “God, you’re burning up.” His lips swept across her aching nipple before he turned his attention to her other one. “I thought moonlight was supposed to be chilly.” Moonlight. Luna opened her eyes and struggled to see the window. The thin shade covered it, and no light came through. She could still hear the wash of rain sliding over the glass. And their harsh breaths echoing off the interior of the small room. “I’ll find you,” she vowed. Her jaw clenched when his thumb withdrew and he started playing with her with his fingers. He pushed one up inside her, going deep before withdrawing and trying another. “I’ll find you and make you pay.” “Not if I find you first.” His pewter eyes were intent as he watched her face. She struggled not to squirm underneath him, but her body bucked when one of those slippery fingers slid over her perineum and between the cheeks of her ass. He pressed firmly against her secret bud, and tension hummed in the room like a power line. It sparked just as fiercely when her muscles gave way and that intrusive finger pushed into her anus. “Scythe!” His weight lowered onto her. “If I find you first, we’ll end up right back here, but it won’t be my fingers you’ll be taking.” Fingers? She only had one inside her, but she felt it retreat and him come back with two. Her eyes pressed tight, and she saw stars again, different ones this time. White, exploding bursts of light reflected in her head. “Oh,” she gasped. She let out another whimper. “It hurts. It… You can’t.”

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“You shouldn’t want this, lightness, but you do. I can feel it in the way you’re clutching at me.” His head dipped and his forehead rested against her chest. “Fuck, what do I have to do to scare you into stopping walking the streets at night?” “I’m not walking the streets!” She bit her lip hard when those naughty fingers slid another knuckle deep. “No?” Luna watched him through slitted eyes as he raised his head. She pressed her arms tight against her ears, trying to hold herself together. Her legs strained against their hold, but there was no way she could fight him. No way to escape the wicked things he was doing to her. And they both knew it. Friction filled the room and lust clouded the air. Emotions and sensations pummeled Luna. Her backside was filled. She’d never engaged in this kind of sex play before. Never wanted to, never thought she’d like it. But like was such a delicate word, and there was nothing delicate about the penetration. Her anus burned, spread wide to take both his fingers. They plunged and retreated, spending more time inside her than out. And he was right, the clasp was hot. She didn’t know how they fit, but those curious fingers of his burrowed deep. Then his thumb was snooping around again, looking for tender flesh. “Oh!” She gasped when it pressed into another hungry opening. He filled her front and back with only his hand, and an orgasm rushed towards her. The spandex of his uniform rasped against her stomach as he slid lower, suckling her breasts and licking her abdomen. He was still fully dressed while she’d never felt more exposed.


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His weight held her down, and when that insistent mouth closed over her clit, the white stars burst before her open eyes. She watched, struggling to say his name, a curse or even a prayer as his lips tugged on her clit and his thumb and fingers fucked her hard. “Scy… Scy… Scythe,” she screamed. The orgasm burst inside her. Heat, tension and dark pleasure rolled through her until she could take no more. Collapsing back against the pillow, she clenched the silk that tied her to the bed. It was the only thing she had left to hold on to. “Damn, you’re sweet.” He reared up from her, but his fingers were gentle as they pulled out of her. In the darkness, it was hard to tell, but it appeared as though his hand was shaking as he reached for the zipper of his jeans. The rasp of the metal was harsh in the tiny room, though, and Luna had to believe she’d imagined the weakness. She wasn’t imagining it when he pushed his jeans over his hips and his cock sprang out from hiding. He was going commando and, like the rest of him, his erection was big and strong. Determined. The rough denim brushed against the inside of her thighs as he slid his hands underneath her, clenching her bottom in both palms. He lifted her, positioning her. Then, leaning forward, he found her heat. Like every other motion he made, he pushed into her silkily and lethally. Luna groaned as he thrust all the way in. He was going to be the death of her. He was thick and long, filling her until she couldn’t take any more. Couldn’t want any more. But she did. She wanted this. She wanted him. When he started moving, she began whispering his name in rhythm with his thrusts.

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“Scythe,” she moaned. “Who’s the bad guy fucking you, lightness?” “Scythe.” “Who should you stay away from, pretty girl?” “Scythe.” His hips jerked and his cock pressed deeper. “Get a partner, damn it. Take someone with you to protect you.” She didn’t want someone else with her. She wanted him. “Scythe.” His groan joined hers, and he began humping her hard and fast. He’d barely retreat before jamming his cock back into her pussy. His fingers bit into the soft globes of her ass, and then one was touching the tender rosebud it had plundered before. Just the touch alone did it. Luna came. The dark pleasure swamped her, robbing her of breath and thought. His head dropped as he watched his cock bury itself inside her over and over again. Finally, he went rigid atop her, and his hot come spurted into her. When his eyes met hers, they were desperate. “Don’t make me do this again.” “No,” she agreed. She couldn’t go through another encounter like this. The rawness scared her, the temptation was immoral. Just as the orgasm started to wane, though, moonlight peeked through the cracks surrounding the shade on the window. The beams glinted off something in the corner of the room. His weapon. She could see the long curve of the blade over his shoulder. Power washed through her, combining with the energy already coursing through her body. The rock on her necklace turned warm between her breasts and her skin tingled. She closed her eyes as her power rejuvenated. Cool blue


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light filled the room, illuminating them both as pleasure took them over the edge, but it was too much, too soon. The surge robbed her of her consciousness too, and all that light dimmed. Darkness consumed the room, and she could do nothing to fight it anymore.

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When Luna woke again, Scythe, the bad guy who’d done unforgiveable, unforgettable things to her, was gone. She was alone and she was free. Her hands were tucked at her sides, and there was a lamp on in the far corner of the room. She did a quick check, but all traces of Scythe were gone—his weapon, his cape and especially his intense presence. She blushed when she shifted on the bed and felt stickiness between her thighs. Well, not all traces of him were gone. She sat up and carefully swung her feet to the floor. Clutching the edge of the mattress, she took stock. Her throat was still sore, swollen and dry. Reaching up, she rubbed her fingers over her neck. She could feel each spot where Sneaky Nick’s fingers had dug deep. She noticed the glass of water on the bedside table. Water and her knife and her taser… She frowned. Scythe had left her with her weapons close-by? She looked around again with suspicion but picked up the glass. Holding it up to the light, she evaluated its contents. The liquid was clear, and it was still cold. He couldn’t have been gone long. She risked a drink. She knew she shouldn’t trust anything he gave her, but the tap in the bathroom seemed so far away. Besides, he wasn’t the kind of man to resort to poison. It wasn’t his style, and there was no reason to knock her out now, after he’d already taken her—in every sense of the word. The water felt like a soothing balm. She gulped another thirsty drink and licked the dampness off her lips. She could still feel him there, his mouth and his

Kimberly Dean

kisses. She could feel him on nearly every inch of her skin. She’d never had sex like that before…with passion flaring, wills battling and bodies straining… She hated to think of what she might have done if he hadn’t had her tied up the entire time. Would it have been as good? Heat warmed her cheeks, and she pressed the cool glass to her forehead. She needed to think. The man might be her enemy, but he’d been right—she’d taken too many chances last night, and she hadn’t come away unscathed. She’d almost been killed by one bad guy and had wild, unprotected sex with another. What if Scythe hadn’t come upon the scene? What if Nick had been allowed to crush her windpipe? What if she was pregnant? Oh, God. She had to retreat and regroup. First order of business was to get herself out of this room and back to safety. He’d seen her face. The heat in her belly cooled. The repercussions of that couldn’t be underestimated. Shakily, she stood from the bed. What time was it? She picked up her palm unit. 5:30 a.m. Her eyes rounded. She never stayed out this late in her Luminescence persona. On bare feet, she ventured to the window and pulled back the shade. It was still dark, but the moon was gone. She didn’t need to see the sky to know that. What was important right now was figuring out where she was and how long until sunup. She frowned at the chair that held her clothes. At night, she could blend into the shadows. In daylight, amongst all the hardworking 8-to-5 civilians, she’d look like some dominatrix freak. “Damn.” She hurried to the bathroom.

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When she flicked on the light, though, she stopped short. A towel was thrown haphazardly over the side of the tub, and a wet washcloth lay next to it. Red smudges on the washcloth caught her eye. Blood? She took an instinctive step back. His? Hers? Her gaze went to her knees. They were raw, but they were cleaned up. The rocks and debris were gone from her skin, but the scratches were red and angry. Had he taken care of her? Before tying her up? What sense did that make? Why would he care about her aches and pains? Or her hair? She stilled when she looked in the mirror. She wasn’t a vain woman, but her hair was her own personal treasure. Inherited from her mother, it was white blonde and lighter than sun-kissed. As a child, they’d called her towheaded, but she’d never grown out of the phase. The strands were thick and soft, and they reached to nearly her waist. With the rain and the struggle last night, her hair should be knotted in tangles. It wasn’t. It hung smooth and wavy, over her shoulders and down her back. Confused, she ran her fingers through it. Had he— She spotted the comb on the back edge of the sink. It was one of those fiftycent jobs, black and industrial with teeth that would snap off after two uses. She smiled when she saw that some were already gone. He’d combed her hair. Big, menacing Scythe had stripped her down, dried her off and taken care of her—all before restraining her on the bed. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. The man was a constant contradiction. And she needed to be careful of him. All this? It wasn’t consistent with his character. That long-handled lethal blade he’d propped in the corner of the room? That was Scythe. The weapon was


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scary, treacherous and unpredictable, and it had given him his name. She couldn’t forget that or the warning he’d given her. She needed to stay far, far away from the man. Next time he might not be cleaning up her blood, but spilling it. A shiver went down her spine. She had to get out of this place before he decided to come back. Hurrying, she cleaned up and took care of other pressing needs. Back in the bedroom, she looked in the closet and bedside table for any sign of clothes. He wasn’t feeling that benevolent. Resigning herself, she began getting dressed in her costume. She tried to hurry, but things felt different as she put them on, one piece at a time. The bra cupped her breasts intimately, and she felt the tenderness in her nipples. The black hipsters were worse. They seemed almost too small as she pulled them into place. The stretch leather rounded to the curves of her bottom, binding the globes in place and making her achingly aware of where he’d touched her last night. Touched and plundered. She blew out a breath that stirred the hair that had fallen forward over her shoulders. She didn’t know if she could put the boots on or not. She stared at them from five feet away. They were sex bombs, she realized. She’d always known that. She’d known it from the way they made her feel when she put them on. She’d known it from the way men had stared at her when she’d illuminated them. Her light and her powers of attraction weren’t the only thing slowing them in their tracks. “Damn you, Scythe.” Gritting her teeth, she grabbed a boot. Pointing her toes, she slipped her foot inside. The soft leather hugged her toes, and the support pressed into her arch.

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She had to fight back a moan when she dragged the long zipper up to nearly her knee. The second one was even worse. By the time she swung her cape around her shoulders, her black hipsters were wet in the crotch. Her belt felt heavy with her weapons, and her bra was binding. Her nipples tightened as she looked at the rumpled bed. Dark versus light. Good versus evil. She didn’t feel like she’d lost this round, but she certainly wasn’t the victor. She was lucky to come out alive and intact, but he’d warned her about the next time. If there was a next time. She bit her lip. She’d failed to find any clue to his identity, but he’d exposed too many of her secrets. The boots, her skin, her tactics, her sexual triggers… She fingered the rock of her necklace where it had settled between her breasts. He’d warned her away, but she had to find out something about him. Without leverage of her own, this man, the cold-bladed Scythe, could own her.

She made it to work on time, but Luna was still flustered as she walked down the halls of the courthouse. Self-conscious, she ran her hand over her illfitting suit. It was beige, a color that tended to blend into walls, but that fit her purposes just fine. This was her daylight costume, as she liked to think of it. Frumpy clothes, dull hair and ugly shoes. Her flat heels felt sturdy and respectable, but that was a much-needed switch from the boots that had garnered so much attention last night.


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And again this morning on her walk of shame back to her three-wheeler—as Scythe had no doubt intended. Her spine jerked. Damn it, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t think of that devil, at least not until after hours when she could give him her full, undivided, calculating attention. Still, promises were sometimes hard to keep. Even now, walking primly down the hallowed halls of the courthouse, she was experiencing aches and pains that hadn’t resulted from the fight in the alley. No, these aches were more intimate and the throbbing more attention-getting. Her heels clipped louder as her temper flared. Finding her way back to her motorcycle in the predawn hours had been challenging and embarrassing. He’d taken her to the back room of an accountant’s office, of all places, more than a mile away from Bell King Jewelers. If she’d had more time, she would have scoped out the place. William Mabrey was suspected of cooking the books for several of the underworld’s biggest moneymakers, but the man had never been officially charged. It made sense that Scythe would have connections to someone like him. It would also make sense if he never used the man’s accounting services again. He had to know she’d start watching the place. She was a superheroine, for heaven’s sake. Regardless of the situation she’d found herself in last night… Turning stiffly, she headed to the cafeteria. She needed to make better preparations. It would be a good idea to stow street clothes somewhere accessible or rent a unit where she could hide if she got caught out too late again. Scythe had taught her more lessons than he knew. “Did ya hear that Sneaky Nick wound up in the emergency room last night?”

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Her ears perked up when she heard the familiar name. Glancing around, she saw two uniformed officers having their breakfast of donuts and coffee. Instinctively, she stepped back. How much of the story had gotten out? Had any connections been made to her? “That’s news to me,” the heavier set cop said. “What put him there?” “Nobody knows.” The cop with the hot gossip shrugged, and Luna took a chance. Wandering to the coffee machine, she listened in. “Foster was out on patrol, and he found him in the alleyway behind Bell King Jewelers. Ole Nicky was hurt pretty bad, but there was no evidence of who might have taken him down. He and some partner must have gotten in a fight over the goods.” Goods? Luna frowned as she put creamer in her coffee. “What goods?” the heavyset cop asked for her. “The jewelry store was hit. Foster found a fistful of diamonds in Sneaky Nick’s pocket. Whoever jumped him must have missed them.” The other cop clucked his tongue. “There’s no honor amongst thieves anymore.” Luna stirred her coffee as thoughts whirled inside her head. That didn’t make sense. Nick hadn’t made it into the jewelry store. Measly power that she’d had, she’d stopped him. “Excuse me.” She looked up sharply and realized she was blocking a bailiff’s way to the sugar. A cute bailiff. “Sorry.” She stepped aside and was forgotten in favor of caffeine. Moving to a table along the wall, she sat. It was her goal to be unnoticeable. She wanted people to overlook her, but every once in a while it hurt. Discomfited, she patted her hair.


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It, out of anything about her, attracted attention, but she had it wrapped tight in a bun. She pushed her glasses higher on her nose. She didn’t need them, but they worked for the persona. Here, during the daytime, she was Luna Masters, ordinary court reporter. Nobody would suspect that she ventured out at night to help fight the battle that these cops and the bailiff weren’t winning. They could gossip all they wanted, but she knew the truth. Sneaky Nick had planned to rob that jewelry store, but he hadn’t even gotten inside the door. There was only one explanation. Scythe had done the job. He’d seen the opportunity, and he’d robbed the place. She rubbed her throat. Or he’d broken in just to frame the slimeball. She knew she was giving him the benefit of the doubt, but that scenario actually made more sense. Scythe wasn’t known for committing petty crimes such as B&E or robbery. He was much more hardcore. Kidnapping, murder and gun-running were rumored to be on his rap sheet. Rumored, because he’d never been caught. She settled her hand in her lap. Last night alone, he’d kidnapped her, assaulted Nick with a deadly weapon and planted evidence. Her bad boy had been busy. The thought snapped her out of her reverie. He wasn’t her bad boy, not in any shape or form. Pressing her lips together, she looked at her watch. Her eyes widened when she saw the time. After draining the last of her coffee, she threw the paper cup in the trash and hurried for Courtroom B. She showed the bailiff her credentials and barely got a nod in return. She was so out of it today, she didn’t even know what cases were on the docket. Pulling out the schedule, she skimmed over the day’s proceedings.

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Her heart dropped. “Oh crap.” She’d been looking forward to an easy day, but all hopes of that had just been shot to hell. Griffin Tate was going to be in her courtroom today. Closing her eyes, she searched for patience. The defense attorney was a thorn in her side. He wasn’t showy or brash like a lot of lawyers. He was just the opposite—quiet, intense and predatory. A true shark among sharks. He defended the worst of the worst and, more times than not, he got away with it. Swearing under her breath, Luna checked her equipment and setup. The man kept everyone in the courtroom on their toes. He knew the law inside and out, and procedure was his thing. He, more than anyone she knew, liked to consult the court records. She was the best of the best too, but she didn’t like being constantly challenged. Everyone else in the courtroom tended to forget she was there. Not him. It made her job—and her outside vocation—more difficult. She picked up a lot of information from her day job that she used at night. People tended to forget when they were on the record and off. She wasn’t supposed to get caught up in trials or depositions. She’d been trained to be impartial, discreet and tightlipped, but she could listen and learn. She never told anyone else what she found out when she was listening in the corner. When she acted, it was on her own. She glanced at the plaintiff’s table and nearly winced. ADA Kessel was prosecuting today. Tate would have him for breakfast. The double doors at the back of the room suddenly opened and, as if she’d summoned him, Tate and his team appeared. They walked down the center aisle of the courtroom with strong, determined steps. Out of habit, she looked away


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and pretended to be busy. Tate made a practice of staring down everyone in the courtroom when he entered. Only this time, she didn’t feel his hard stare. Peeking up, she saw that he was in discussions with one of his associates. The heavy weight on her shoulders lifted. “All rise,” the bailiff called. She stood as Judge Winston entered and resumed her seat when signaled. She liked this judge. The woman was fair and impartial and kept things moving on schedule. Cracking her knuckles, Luna got down to transcribing the proceedings. As always, she fell into an unconscious rhythm, concentrating on listening rather than typing. If she thought about what her fingers were doing, they’d inevitably get bungled. She’d learned long ago that listening made everything flow more smoothly, and listen well she did. She heard everything. Her fingers flew as the prosecutor gave his opening statement. It was a battery case and, from the looks of the defendant, he could put the hurt on someone. She put the punk’s name, RJ Tyson, in her Luminescence memory bank. “Mr. Tate, you may proceed.” “Thank you, Judge.” Her fingers fumbled when she heard Griffin Tate speak. He sounded awful. Clearing his throat, he began again. “Sorry, Your Honor, I’m a bit under the weather today.” He continued and Luna found her rhythm before someone could see that she’d flubbed up. She was known for her accuracy, and she’d like to keep her reputation intact.

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As he continued speaking, though, she couldn’t help but listen to the rasp. It sounded so unlike him, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember his normal tone of voice. Cold, deep, authoritative… She knew that much, but this raspy quality was giving her goose bumps. He turned towards her, and she sank an inch farther into her chair, only to realize he was talking to the jury. He’d yet to look at her. Rather than soothe her nerves, it only ratcheted them higher. He must not be feeling well, because his whole game was off. For some reason, that rattled her too. She didn’t like the man, but she usually knew what to expect from him during a trial. This not knowing was unsettling. It also drew her attention away from the proceedings to him. “What we have here today is a case of mistaken identity,” he continued. “I will prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the defendant was not in the Capital Hills district, but instead at the Newcropolis Pub on the night in question.” On autopilot, she let herself study the man. Tate was in his prime, with dark hair glinting and power radiating. Even in a gray suit, she could see he was in incredible shape. She kept her own wardrobe oversized and nondescript to hide her true appearance, but his suit jacket was tailored to show off his wide shoulders and slim hips. His strength was his trademark. Everyone who knew him, talked to him or even crossed his path was aware of his indomitable power. He turned to pace in the opposite direction as he spoke, and her gaze flashed to the keys under her fingers. Once again, though, she didn’t feel the weight of his stare. Curious, she glanced up. He still wasn’t looking at her. He cleared his throat.


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Laryngitis? Her eyes narrowed. He didn’t appear sick in any other way. In fact, he looked damn good. His black hair glinted almost blue under the artificial lights, and he moved in a way that was athletic and smooth. She knew better than to stare, but she took the chance now. He was handsome in a hard, inapproachable way. Unyielding, dominate and sexy… She let out her own raspy breath. What was it with her and inappropriate men? Still, there was something about him. She risked another peek as he finished his opening statement and sat down behind the defendant’s table. Picking up a pen, he wrote something on his notebook. He had big hands, she noted. Strong fingers. A shiver went through her. She knew now how devious a man’s fingers could be, and her thoughts went back to the night before as she’d been tied on that bed with Scythe looming over her… “I object!” The sharp words snapped her out of the memory. “Leading the witness,” Tate said firmly, a rasp only coming in at the end. “Sustained,” Judge Winston agreed. “The ADA’s question will be struck from the record.” The record. The record. Forcing herself to stay calm, Luna looked at her work. More time had passed than she realized. Fortunately, as far as her head had strayed, her fingers had kept up with the discussion. Nodding, she proceeded to strike the last few words. At the delay, she felt the attention of the room shift, most to other things, but some of it to her. One heavy gaze in particular landed on her. Her spine stiffened. For the first time since he’d stepped inside the room, Tate was watching her. She could feel it. Staying impassive, she completed the

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request and nodded for the judge to continue. Only after the ADA was well into his next line of questioning did she risk a glance in the direction of the defense. She jolted. Tate was still watching her from across the room. His look was steady and hard, and the expression on his handsome face was stern. She swallowed painfully, and his jaw stiffened. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but she knew where she felt that hard stare. Her neck. He was looking at the marks on her neck. There was no way to hide. Her hands were busy, and her collar didn’t go up any higher. She’d thought she’d covered the bruises with enough concealer, but Tate had spied them from across the room. Anger swept through her unexpectedly. What business was it of his anyway? Wasn’t he defending a man who’d done precisely the same thing to another woman? Virginia Samms had been brutally attacked. With the way the trial was going already, though, it appeared RJ Tyson was going to walk—even if his victim was the personal assistant to U.S. Senator Dawnie Durbin. Tate was just that convincing, that manipulative. Even connections like that couldn’t stop him from convincing a jury to let an attacker go scot-free. As angry as she was, Luna dipped her chin to hide the marks. She had to remember retribution wasn’t her game—at least not until night fell. It took a long time for Tate’s look to leave her, but once it did, it didn’t come back. Still, waiting for it to return was a strain. By the time Judge Winston adjourned for the day, Luna’s fingers were stiff and her back was sore. It matched her mood. Tate was going to win an acquittal. She could tell by the way the jury watched him and nodded at his convincing words. She wasn’t so easily swayed. RJ Tyson was an abusive thug, and someone needed to shine the light of truth on him.


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Someone like her or, more precisely, her alter ego. It was time for Luminescence to start doing her thing.

Luna sat in her car, away from the streetlights, but close enough to watch the front door of the New Q Diner. She’d followed RJ Tyson here, deep on the south side of Newcropolis. It was a dodgy part of town. She checked her locks one more time and did a quick sweep over the rundown park next to her. Even with three thousand pounds of metal surrounding her, she was on alert. Then again, Newcropolis had become so corrupt and damaged, no section of the city was really considered safe. It was why she did the things she did, because she had the power to help. Nervously, she rubbed the stone of her necklace. She wasn’t comfortable being out like this at night, as Luna, but she had no other option. Even Luminescence couldn’t come into this part of town at less than full power. Her stomach growled, and she grimaced. She’d missed dinner, but RJ seemed to be eating his fill. He’d been in the place for nearly half an hour, according to her notes. She’d been following him ever since he’d left the courthouse, jotting down who he spoke to, where he went and how long he spent at each location. The man should be in a jail cell eating institutional food, but Tate had had him released on bail weeks ago. RJ could come and go as he pleased. Now he was here, eating barbecue, while her stomach gurgled and gnawed on itself. Was he really here to eat? Her eyes narrowed as she scoped out the diner. It was tiny. From the outside, it looked like it could fit maybe three tables, tops. She’d done more research on her palm unit as she’d watched people come and go. The place seemed to focus mainly on takeout.

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She wondered what else the New Q was moving to have business so brisk. A car passed by, and she tugged her scarf so it covered more of her hair. It was unbelievably unfair. The trial was a minor setback for this creep, while Virginia Samms was still doing physical therapy to recover. Luna’s fingers moved absently from her stone to her neck. Would she be doing PT, too, if Scythe hadn’t taken out Sneaky Nick? Would he have found her at all if she hadn’t managed to summon enough power to put out even that muted glow? She patted her taser to reassure herself. Where was Scythe tonight? Who was he stalking? A chill went through her, and she looked again to the shadows of the park. It was unsettling to think he was out there somewhere in the darkness. Her enemy knew what she looked like. He knew how she worked and where her weaknesses lay. She knew nothing about him in return, other than he’d given her a night she’d never forget. Why had he spared her? RJ hadn’t spared Virginia. The door to the New Q opened, and she straightened in her seat. RJ Tyson had finally finished his meal or whatever he’d been doing inside. She watched as he walked down the street towards his SUV. It was a bright blue, late-model version with the cab jacked up as if it were on stilts. Definitely not low-key. She waited for anyone else to leave. Had he been in there all alone? A strange disappointment went through her when she realized she was expecting Griffin Tate to stride out of that wooden door. As RJ pulled away from the curb, she shook off the thought and started to follow him. “What are you up to, you shifty little—Ah!” Luna stomped on her brakes so hard, her seat belt bit into her shoulder. A menacing black sedan had come out of the alley beside the New Q, directly in front of her.


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Her lights reflected off the darkened windows for a long, uncomfortable moment. Where had it come from? Was there parking behind the restaurant? She tried to see. Had she missed someone coming and going? The black sedan began moving again. It continued with its left turn, and she looked in her side mirror, trying to read the license plate. When she did, her lungs expanded sharply. It was hard enough to get a license number when you were looking at it in reverse, but that wasn’t the only thing she noticed. With a shaking hand, she jotted the number down in the notebook in her lap. The number wasn’t what had her blood pumping. It was where the plate was from. District of Columbia. Coincidence? She didn’t believe in coincidence. Tossing the notebook onto the passenger seat, she put both hands on the steering wheel. Watching the car in her rearview mirror, she drove steadily away, but her mind was running fast. RJ stopped at a gas station. She drove right on by, towards the freeway. She’d done enough surveillance for the night. Plenty. It was only when she was clear from the neighborhood that she began to think through the implications of what she’d just seen. DC plates. Virginia Samms worked for Senator Durbin. What had she just witnessed? Was the Senator having Tyson followed? Did she realize the trial wasn’t going well? Had she decided to take matters into her own hands? Luna shook her head. Didn’t the freshman Senator understand she couldn’t interfere like that? How inappropriate it was? She needed to let the justice system handle the matter, however poorly the trial was going.

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Luna swore under her breath. This was not what she’d expected to find on her stakeout. What was she supposed to do? Her mind churned all the way home. When she arrived at the manor, she automatically parked her brown sedan in the upper garage. The hidden, lower garage was for Luminescence. She waited for the security gates to close before exiting the car. The behemoth of a house stood silent before her, empty now that her grandfather was gone. She felt the eyes of the security cameras as she walked up the lighted walkway to the side entrance. Her mind was still elsewhere when she saw something on her stoop. Was that a basket on her doorstep? Her heart began to thud, and she looked around nervously. Cloud cover meant another moonless night, and the shadows were dense. Was somebody out there? Had someone gotten by all her layers of security? She eyed the basket like it was a Trojan horse. She didn’t know of any friends or family who’d planned to drop by. Her goose bumps were turning to prickles of fear. She couldn’t stay outside like this, vulnerable and unaware. The darkness pushed her forward, but that innocent-looking basket kept her back. Finally, the night and her curiosity won. She approached the basket hesitantly, but she smelled it before she saw anything inside. Her stomach growled. Was it food? Kneeling, she peeled back the red-and-white checkered napkin. She stared at the contents in confusion. It was takeout. From the New Q. Foreboding washed through her, cold and jagged. She pushed the basket away, but a receipt fluttered in the breeze. No, that wasn’t a receipt, it was a Post-it note. Peeling it off, she read it quickly.


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Kimberly Dean

I told you to stay home or get a partner, Luminescence. That means you too, pretty Luna. She stumbled backwards when she recognized the rudimentary sketch. It was of a scythe. The stone of her necklace warmed between her breasts. Warmed and then chilled. He’d seen her on her stakeout tonight, and he knew more than her face. He knew her name. He knew where she lived. He knew who she was.

46


Chapter Four

Scythe watched Luna approach the big, looming house from underneath an old oak tree. He was still hidden in the corner of her yard. He knew he should leave, but he wanted to see her reaction. He needed to know that he’d made his point. She looked confused at first and a bit wary when she spotted the gift he’d left for her. He nodded. That’s right, lightness, feel the nip of fear. She knelt and then pulled back sharply. She had his note. The nip of fear became a big, toothy bite. He could see from the way her spine stiffened and feel it in the way the air changed. The damp night breeze rippled, and her tension radiated all the way to where he stood. It hit him in the chest and settled lower, in his groin. Good, he thought, shifting in discomfort. She needed to be scared. She needed to back off. She didn’t know where she was treading, and she was getting too far onto his turf. The innocent little fool. His weapon spun in his hand, the blade turning like a windmill overhead. What had she been thinking, running around the south side of Newcropolis? She looked like a timid librarian in that getup. It hung on her like a sack, and the color washed the pink right out of her cheeks. If she thought the disguise helped her blend into the background, she was dead wrong. He wanted to rip the plain, frumpy clothes off her even more than he had those tiny bits of leather last night. And that bun. His fingers ached to pull out the band that held it in place. He remembered how silky the long strands had felt. Silky and sexy.

Kimberly Dean

She turned in his direction suddenly, with her face lifted. For the briefest of seconds, the moon peeked through the cloud cover. That second was all she needed. Like a firefly, her delicate skin started to glow. His fingers bit into the wooden handle of his weapon, and the scythe jerked still. With so little skin exposed, her light mellowed quickly. The moon went back into hiding, but she’d nearly caught him. Much more and the glow would have reflected off his blade. Just to be safe, he moved silently to the shadows cast by the eight-foot-tall stone fence that surrounded the grounds of the premises. That skin of hers… Damn, he had a thing for it even worse than her hair. She’d gone all glowy on him last night too. He didn’t know how she’d managed it, or if she even knew that she’d done it, but she’d radiated moonlight as she’d orgasmed. His cock hardened. He’d been inside her at the time, and the energy that had gone through them both was indescribable. Cool, blue and nearly ripyour-head-off powerful. A grumble left his lips. His blonde bombshell packed a punch in more ways than one, but last night had been a mistake. He’d tied her up for a reason. He’d taken her for another, but that was beside the point. He’d meant to teach her a lesson. The bad element running through Newcropolis wasn’t to be toyed with. Someone like her—so good, pure and well-intentioned—could never survive. He knew, because he ran with the wolves. The big, bad kind. All he wanted was to eat her right up. He’d done it once and, if he got a chance, he’d do it again. And again and again and again. A long breath left his lungs. Yeah, last night had backfired on him, big time. Slowly, he lowered himself into a crouch. “Run away home, lightness.”

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Blade of Moonlight

He waited until she let herself inside, noting that she took the basket with her. As committed to the justice system as she was, she probably thought she could dust it for prints. The only ones she’d find would be the cook’s or the cashier’s. He hoped she ate the meal, though. She had curves in all the right places, and he’d like to keep it that way. She’d skipped dinner to follow RJ. It wasn’t a habit he wanted to encourage. Besides, the New Q had some of the best barbecue in town. “Bon appétit, baby.” A light went on inside the house. No doubt the doors were locked and the windows were barred. He looked over the mansion. She had a trusty fortress here, one straight out of the early seventies. He ran his thumb across his lower lip. She’d made some modifications, but the security system wasn’t what it should be. What she had was high-tech, but it had holes—primarily the stone fence behind him. It was tall, but someone determined could get over it. Someone determined like him. He knew he should leave now that she’d received his message, but he held his position. He’d never come across one of his enemy’s lairs before. It roused his curiosity. “Hell,” he muttered, rising to full height. Everything about her roused him. Another light came on, this one on the second floor. His gaze slid up, following the thick vines of ivy that clung to the stone home. What was she doing alone in a big old place like this? It had to ramble and echo around her, and she wasn’t that big of a thing. Where did she hide Luminescence? He’d seen the garage as she’d opened it. There was nothing in there that was fast, dark and sleek. Luminescence got around town on a three-wheeled motorcycle. Very tough and sexy. Luna Masters drove a plain brown sedan.


49

Kimberly Dean

He chuckled, the sound funny in his throat. She didn’t fool him. Unfortunately, he was wrong about that. The sound of the crackle of electricity caught him first. He was spinning around when the first bolts of energy came his way. Two electrode darts flew at him. There was no time to move, no time to defend. A jolt went through him and his muscles spasmed, out of his control. Luna stood before him, eyes narrowed and arm thrust out. He couldn’t move his head, but he saw the taser in her hand. Astonishment ran through him nearly as powerful as the amperage. She’d zapped him. It was only the special spandex blend of his costume that saved him from going down in a full-body clench. The material spread the energy, preventing it from totally incapacitating his neuromuscular system. Still, the punch it packed was powerful. In the darkness, tiny zaps of lightning spread out over his chest. His cape fluttered back as if trying to fly him away from the attack but, as always, it was his weapon that came to his aid. For once the scythe didn’t strike or draw blood. It just behaved like the metal conductor that it was. Honed in the fires of Mt. Etna, the indestructible blade acted as a lightning rod. Like moths to the flame, the crackling electricity moved upwards, collecting in the long, curved blade. The handle was made from petrified wood from the Black Forest, but few knew that tungsten embedded in the wood coiled down its length, ending in a metal cap. One decorated with a skull and crossbones. The electricity from the taser followed the metal down into the earth, where it became grounded. Freeing him.

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Blade of Moonlight

“Yehhh shhhot mmmee,” he said dumbly, the words an effort to get out of his rubbery lips. Blue eyes widening, she pulled the trigger again, but it was a one-shot deal. Her feet did a quick two-step as she decided what to do. A glance went to the sky, but then she pushed off and ran. She was like a deer, feminine and fleet of foot. Scythe’s muscles were functioning again, but they weren’t functioning together. His coordination was out-of-sync as he took off after her. His heavy shitkicker boots thudded against the dew-slickened grass. His knees wobbled, but his scythe acted as a walking stick. He might be staggering, but he was gaining on her. She was headed back to the house, her too-long skirt flapping against her shins. Her legs pumped fast, and for a moment it looked as if she might make it past the oak tree and to the side door where he’d left the food. Not if he had anything to say about it. Determination beat coordination. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, he finally got close enough to cheat. Flipping the scythe upside down, he swept the long handle at her feet. The impact wasn’t hard, but he managed to trip her. She tumbled down, knees first, and then onto her hands. Her squeak of pain gave him an ounce of regret. He’d already patched those knees up once, and he hadn’t meant to hurt her. But the gutsy little minx had shot him. Like a wolf on prey, he came down atop her, trapping her with his weight. She tried to scramble away, pushing into the earth and straightening her limbs. She was fit, but he was bigger and stronger. And he liked the way her body ground against his. Wrestling her back down, he trapped her on all fours.


51

Kimberly Dean

With her knees and arms bent, she huddled underneath him like a turtle curling inwards to protect itself. “I told you to stay away from me,” he growled into her ear. “Me? This is my property. You came here.” Okay, technically she was right. Philosophically, she was wrong. He wasn’t sure which philosophy that was, but she’d ventured onto the wrong side of Newcropolis, putting herself in danger. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like it one bit, and that gave him the right to come here to stop her from doing it again. He shook his head. The electricity must have shorted out his brain synapses too. Or maybe it was the way her butt was moving against him. True to her nature, she was still fighting him. As Luminescence, he would have expected it, but tucked underneath him was Luna Masters. Timid, quiet Luna. Feeling her rebel stirred something inside him. In her too-big, ugly suit with those responsible flat heels, she’d had the audacity to hunt him down in the darkness and taser him. His cock swelled against her soft curves. As much as the electricity had tried to immobilize him, that was one part of his body functioning just fine. “What were you doing on the south side, Luna?” She jerked a bit at the sound of her name. “None of your business.” “Sorry, I saved your life yesterday. Some would say that makes me responsible for you.” She snorted. Actually had the audacity to laugh at him. “You’re not responsible for yourself, Scythe. You put people in the hospital and feel no repercussions.”

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Blade of Moonlight

That wasn’t true, not in every case, but she wouldn’t understand that. She believed in truth and justice, black versus white. He viewed the world in shades of dark gray. The two of them would never see things the same way. “Leave RJ Tyson alone,” he hissed. “Just go to the trial and type down the words everyone says like a good girl.” She bucked again, trying to get him off her. The motion ground her ass right against his zipper, and Scythe bit the side of his cheek to keep from groaning aloud. Grabbing her knees, he pulled them out from underneath her, spreading her flat beneath him. Her beige skirt bunched around her thighs, and her suit jacket was already pulled off one shoulder. It appeared as if her clothes were trying to work their way off her. He might as well help them along. Sliding his thumb under the tab at her waist, he undid the hook. The material loosened, and he took hold of the zipper that ran down the back of her skirt. Her head whipped around when she heard the sound of metal disengaging from metal. “Scythe.” He pulled the skirt down, working it under her knees and off her. He tossed it aside. He liked the sound of his name on her lips. He wanted to hear her screaming it. “What did I tell you about going out at night?” He began tugging at her jacket. She tugged back, and there was the sound of hideous beige material tearing. He tossed a sleeve aside. “What did I say?” “I didn’t go out, relying on my powers. I was in my car, protected at all times.” “Not good enough.” He nipped at her ear. Strands of blonde hair had slipped from her bun, and they got caught in his five o’clock shadow. Once


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Kimberly Dean

again, light versus dark. Softness versus gruffness. They weren’t meant to go together. But it felt so damn good when they did. He soothed the sting on her earlobe with a kiss. Surprised, she went still. It gave him the chance to pull her suit jacket off her other shoulder. Once it got that far, it wasn’t difficult to slide off her arm and throw it away forever. She turned her head away, and her voice went quiet. “I tried, but I can’t find a partner.” He went motionless above her. Good, he thought possessively. Territorially. Yet she seemed upset. “Why not?” he asked. “I’m too low-level. My powers aren’t considered significant.” “Bullshit.” He’d felt the power that could sweep through her. Literal power. It had lit him up from the inside, and when the full moon was out, she could light up an entire block. Nothing pushed back crime, ugliness and darkness like the exposure of light. This woman didn’t just have tricks and gadgets. She was special. Her head turned again, this time towards him. The expression on her face was suspicious, though, rather than appreciative. Planting his hands on both sides of her, he leaned closer. He had her trapped against the earth and damp grass, his body pressed hot and tight atop her. He had her attention. “You have powers, baby. Actual magic.” He held her blue gaze. “I have a big knife. That’s it. I’m strong and I’m fast, but my bite is in my blade.” Her breath hitched. “But I thought…” He shook his head, even when he knew he shouldn’t. In their world, it was suicide to discuss their powers, their strengths and their weaknesses—especially

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with someone on the other side of the battle line. Gossip and innuendo worked better. Reputations could be built. Mythology could be enhanced. Other than his true identity, he was telling her the biggest secret about the man everyone knew as Scythe. Her gaze went to the long wooden handle he always kept within reach. Following it upwards, she evaluated the blade that curved, long and lethal, in the grass over her head. “But the Blade of Etna…” “It’s real, and I’ve spent years honing my skills on how to use it.” In fact, it was how he’d gotten over the stone wall that surrounded her property. He’d just hooked the blade over the tip of the wall and climbed the handle like a drain spout. “I’ve led a hard life,” he said, “but anyone could do it.” She didn’t shy away or show any disappointment. If anything, the expression on her face brightened. “You had to work harder.” He inhaled deeply, smelling the grass and her perfume. “Just don’t go telling me that you’re too low-level.” He stroked his hand down her flank and then back up to her bottom. “What’s wrong with all your good-guy teammates? Are they blind?” He certainly wasn’t. Without the skirt and the jacket, she was left in a bra, a camisole and panties. His thumb rubbed over the tight curve of her ass. Make that a thong. Underneath all that frumpy outerwear, he’d found the true Luna. The woman was made for sex. He fisted his hand in the white camisole. He liked it. He liked the whole little combo, but it had to go. He grabbed his scythe. She jerked underneath him. “No!” “Lie still.”


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Kimberly Dean

The blade was razor sharp and nearly three feet long but, as he’d told her, he’d spent years mastering it. He could carve his name on a twig if challenged, but this use was much more enjoyable. With a careful swipe, he dragged the tip of the blade down her body, slicing the camisole in half, severing her bra, and finally plucking the thin band of her thong. Her clothes slid off her, and she was naked for him once again. He set the scythe aside, out of her reach. “You disobeyed me,” he whispered. Her fingers dug into the grass. “You don’t own me.” He wanted to. He caught the tie that bound her hair. He would have cut it with the scythe, but he hadn’t wanted to risk cutting even one strand of that gorgeous hair. He pulled the stretchy band open wide and flicked it aside. Like a waterfall, her hair slid down around her shoulders and onto her back. Something close to a purr bubbled up inside his throat. Using his fingers, he combed through the silky waves. Deliberately, almost obsessively, he fanned her hair over her back and across her arms. He’d have given just about anything to strip down so he could feel all that lusciousness, sliding cool and soft against his chest, but it wasn’t meant to be. As much as they’d confided in each other, they weren’t friends. They weren’t even really lovers. They were sex partners, two people from opposing sides who couldn’t fight the power of the forbidden. So instead of ripping off his clothes and getting naked with her, he simply undid his zipper. Pushing his jeans down to his knees, he climbed atop her. And entered her from behind. Sweet mother of everything evil and holy.

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Blade of Moonlight

His jaw tightened until it nearly popped. He hadn’t dreamed up a thing about last night. Her pussy was hot and so damn tight. From this angle, he could go deeper, and there was nothing restraining her hips. Sliding a hand underneath her belly, he lifted her up snug against him. She let out a guilty hum of pleasure. He pushed his cock deep into her wet heat and swiveled his hips, grinding hard. Her hum went up nearly an octave. Oh yeah. Forbidden fruit was sweeter. Finally, he had to move. He had to pump. He had to feel her grip and caress him. He had to fuck her. Bracing himself on one hand, he leaned over her and began to thrust, firm and steady. She kept her hips tilted up for him, allowing a smooth slide into her, but the rest of her was splayed long and lean on her stomach. Night dew was already collecting, and Scythe felt the knees of his jeans become damp. He hovered over her, his cape spreading around them and hiding the lascivious things they were doing. Luna’s fingers clutched the long blades of grass, nearly pulling them out by the root as she took him. Harsh breaths panted from her lips, but her body lay pliant and accepting. That didn’t mean she was submissive. Her hips jerked whenever he touched her deep inside where she liked. She’d kicked off her shoes, and her toes were digging into the dirt for traction. When he gave her a quick slap on the ass, her leg bent at the knee and her foot swung up into the air, her toes pointing at the stars. “Oh God,” she cried. He wanted to feel her. He wanted skin on skin, and the fact that he couldn’t have it was driving him a little mad. He wedged a hand underneath her, wanting to cup her breast, but the soft globe was pressed nearly flat against the ground.


57

Kimberly Dean

The poor thing was rubbing against the grass, trying to use the prickles of the blades for satisfaction. Scythe quickly gave them what they both wanted. Keeping her tight against him, he rolled them over. She let out a cry when she found herself spread out atop him, lying on her back but still fully penetrated. Catching her thighs, he spread them wider until he could press his knees between hers. Planting his boots flat, he began swinging his hips upwards. This time, she was the one who went a little crazy. She squirmed in pleasure, her butt pressing into his belly and her shoulders digging into his chest. When her back arched, his hands were there to take her breasts. Her beautiful, full, jiggling breasts. Her nipples pointed straight up at the dark sky, and he wished the moon were out. He’d love to see that glow come over her skin, lighting up everything around them. He settled for squeezing the tender globes and rubbing her nipples. “Scythe,” she whimpered. “I don’t know if I can stand it.” He buried his face in her soft hair. “Sure you can, lightness. You’re grabbing me like a fist.” And she was. He was the one who didn’t know how much longer he could bear it. He was about to blow his load. She moaned and wriggled, then began to struggle. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed his weapon. She tried to sit upright and groaned as the position changed the angle of his thrusts. His cock went deeper, harder into her. He swung the handle of the scythe in front of her, barring her from going any farther. It was good, so damn right. He didn’t know what was happening between them, but she had to trust it. Using his superior strength, he slowly pulled her back to him. His thrusts were going faster, and his breaths were

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Blade of Moonlight

jagged. Restraining her like a safety bar on an amusement park ride, he held her against him. “Play with yourself,” he ordered. “Mmm.” Her hand stroked down her stomach. He inhaled deeply of her hair and watched over her shoulder as she parted her lower lips. Her fingers plucked and rubbed, circled and tugged. When she reached down farther and touched the place where he was pounding into her, though, it meant the end. The feel of those soft fingertips against his cock? He started coming, spurting as he thrust and hitched. “Oh!” she gasped. “Oooooohhhhh!” Letting go of the scythe he’d been holding against her, he plunged his hand down to join hers. Their fingers tangled and wetted. “Scythe?” “Luna.” They clutched each other’s hands as they both went over the edge, slamming headfirst into pleasure. Light drifted across them, sweeping over the old oak tree, the quiet water fountain, and finally their two supine forms. Scythe waited for her skin to glow. Only it was too bright. Opening his eyes, he realized the light was coming from the headlights of a car driving down the road outside the fence. Protectively, he swept his cape from underneath him so it covered both of them. Then, collapsing back against the cool earth, he tried to catch his breath. “I can’t believe you shot me,” he said. “As Luna.” “I tasered you. You were trespassing.” She waited a beat. “Still are.” He lifted his hips suggestively. “Don’t I know it.”


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Kimberly Dean

“Oh, stop.” Her hand settled against his hip. “I need to recover first.” First. He liked that word, because it meant there would be a second and maybe a third. A light swept over the grounds, this time going in reverse. With it, Scythe’s head came up. A car was driving past. Again. “What is it?” she asked. “You don’t get much traffic out here, do you?” “What?” Her head lifted too. “No, not really.” He didn’t think so. In an affluent neighborhood like this, one didn’t expect midnight raves or unannounced nighttime visitors. Carefully, he disconnected their bodies. “Get dressed.” Her eyes narrowed as she watched the street. “I can’t. You destroyed all my clothes.” He took off his cape and handed it to her. It dwarfed her the moment she put it on, but it covered all that beautiful, light skin. After hopping to his feet, Scythe zipped his jeans. He was already blending with the shadows, covered from head to toe in black. Grabbing his weapon, he pulled her to the fence. It wasn’t long before a car came cruising slowly by. It was casing the joint, searching for weaknesses. He waited until the taillights of the car disappeared, before leaning down and pressing his mouth against her ear. “We need to get to cover. Take me inside your home.” After what they’d just done, it shouldn’t have been such a huge request. But it was. She looked up at him, eyes wide. At the core of it, they were still enemies. Her home was her fortress against him. “Why?” she asked bluntly. “Is it RJ?”

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Blade of Moonlight

It was time she learned the hard truth. “Worse. It’s Senator Durbin.”


61

Chapter Five

Luna led Scythe to the side door where he’d left the basket. He loomed over her, rushing her along, but it was strange letting him into her house. They weren’t friends, and they weren’t dating. She wasn’t inviting him in for coffee. For heaven’s sake, she’d just attacked him. He was the bad guy. And he’d attacked her right back. Sexily, dominantly… She burrowed deeper into his cape, wearing it like a cloak. She felt like she was wearing his letter jacket or something, but it was the only protection she had. He’d shredded everything else she’d had on, yet in the ultimate of ironies, she was now opening her home to him. This was the one place where she could let go of everything and just be herself. Not Luminescence and not the mousey court reporter, but Luna. This house was her haven. His hand settled on her waist, and he pushed her inside. Closing the door behind them, he locked them in. Ignoring her, he moved to the front window of the sitting room and pulled back the shade. Her fingers fisted in the cape’s dark material, uncomfortably aware she was naked underneath it. He may have just screwed her silly, but she needed to get her brain functioning again. Something was wrong. She’d responded like a meek child to his orders, but she hadn’t seen any threats. Other than him. She was good at reading body language, though, and he was on the defense. “What do you mean, it was Senator Durbin?” “Black sedan. DC plates.” He sent a glance her way. “Sound familiar?”

Blade of Moonlight

Luna blinked, so surprised she didn’t know what to say. He’d seen the car at the barbecue joint too? It would make sense that he didn’t like the Senator. Dawnie Durbin was part of the system, and therefore his enemy. She worked for the people of Newcropolis and the rest of the state. She was their voice. A major thrust of the campaign that had gotten her elected had focused on cleaning up the corruption that had infiltrated their cities and towns. Luna considered Scythe. He was clad from head to toe in black, and half of his face was hidden from view. He was big and muscled and a very integral part of that corruption. Without the cape he didn’t look like Death, but he still looked like its harbinger. Even now, he had that vicious-looking scythe in hand. Why would Senator Durbin’s car be here, at her house? Had it followed him? He had been at the New Q. She could smell the barbecue he’d bought for her in the air. “You should go,” she said quietly. His head snapped around, and his jaw went rigid. “Go?” Luna shifted uncomfortably and felt the slick material of his cape slide against her sensitive skin. She wondered at her easy betrayal of her own beliefs, but she couldn’t let him get caught. Not like this. “Before they catch you.” His gray eyes sparked. “Baby, I’m not the one they’re after.” Her chin came up. “What?” “You saw them.” Nothing he was saying made sense. “Saw who?” He crossed the room, the scythe a natural extension of his body. “Senator Durbin’s people.” “So?” He stared at her for a long moment, frowning. “What do you think you saw?”


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Kimberly Dean

Her lips twisted. She still wasn’t quite sure of that, and in her line of work, she’d learned not to make assumptions. Still, there weren’t many options. “I saw a car with DC plates following RJ Tyson.” “Did you?” He planted the butt of the scythe on the floor and leaned against it. “Which way did the car turn when RJ left the restaurant?” It had turned left—away from the direction Tyson had been going. Luna frowned. She hadn’t considered that. It got her brain churning again on possible scenarios, but something else was stuck in her head. He’d called that thug RJ. Not Tyson or his full name. He’d said RJ like he knew the guy, and that didn’t sit well in her stomach. She was well aware of what Scythe was. She knew what he’d done, but RJ Tyson was a thug, an abuser of women. Scythe was…a villain. She couldn’t get around that fact, no matter how much she wanted to. He touched her in a way that made her body melt. Not once had he hurt her. He’d protected her and cared for her, but deep down he was still a bad guy. “Which way did the car turn, lightness?” The way he was pressing her reminded her of the courtroom. He was as bullheaded as Griffin Tate, but she wasn’t on the witness stand here. “It went in the opposite direction.” He nodded, watching her and waiting. The answer suddenly rang in her head, clear as a bell. “They were meeting with him?” “They were making a payoff.” The statement stopped her cold. Stopped her thought processes, stopped her breaths and nearly stopped her heart. Senator Durbin’s people had paid the man who’d beaten her assistant?

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“Virginia Samms found out something she shouldn’t have,” Scythe said, his voice as cutting as his blade. “The good Senator couldn’t let that information get out. Her people found somebody to shut her up.” Luna’s hand went to cover her exclamation, and she almost forgot about the cape. She pulled it back together, but the enormity of what he was telling her was almost too much to bear. The corruption went that far up the chain? “The Senator?” “Is an incompetent, vicious bitch hungry for power.” Straightening, he glanced back to the window. “You’d better get dressed.” Luna looked down at herself. Why hadn’t she headed that way the moment she’d gotten inside the door? She’d become entirely too comfortable around him. Nodding, she turned. “In the leather,” he called after her. She stopped so fast, the cape swished around her ankles. “I need Luminescence,” he said. He shouldn’t hold any sway over her. His opinions shouldn’t mean anything, but nobody had ever asked for her assistance before. Nobody had wanted a partner. They hadn’t even considered her good sidekick material. He did. Her shoulders drew back and she straightened a good inch. “Give me ten minutes. I need a shower.” He was suddenly right behind her, his heat burning through the thin skin of the cape. “You’ve got five. I like the idea of my scent on you.” Her breath shuddered. She moved away swiftly, heading up the stairs, but her knees wobbled on every step. She entered her bedroom and sagged against the door as she shut it behind her. Why did bad sometimes have to be so irresistible?


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Kimberly Dean

It took her one of her precious five minutes before she could find the strength to move again. Only now did she feel the blade of grass that still stuck to her knee. Opening the cape, she peeled it off. Her inner thighs felt sticky, and dirt was under her fingertips. Overriding his decision, she whipped off his cape and hit the shower for a quick rinse. When she made it back to her bedroom, she had little time to spare. He’d yet to burst in the door, so she accessed the hidden panel at the back of her closet. Twisting the end hanger, the door slid on silent rollers and multiple versions of her costume appeared. She grabbed one and tossed it on the bed. Her hair was curling from the hot steam of the shower as she pulled on the bra. She eyed the hipsters with more concern. It used to be that putting on the outfit made her feel sexy. Now it made her feel sexual. There was a difference. She bit her lip as she zipped up her boot. She was looking at the other when she spotted their capes side by side on her bed. The picture made her come up short. They were identical. Black, hooded, flowing… His was bigger, but otherwise they were indistinguishable. Good? Bad? Light? Dark? The paradox struck a chord inside her. On auto-pilot, she tied her mask around her eyes. Good Senator Durbin was crooked and spiteful. The upper-tier heroes in her alliance were vain and distant. Could there be another side to amoral, anger-driven Scythe? She picked up both cloaks and stepped out into the hallway. She wasn’t surprised to find Scythe ready to kick down her door. Only he wasn’t. He stood outside her room with one hand braced on the hallway wall. He was looking at a picture. She paused, everything about her going brittle as fine china.

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He glanced her way, and she was caught by another surprise. For once, those steel-gray eyes were gentle. “Your grandfather?” Throat tight, she merely nodded. He pulled back and carefully straightened the picture so it hung right. The touch was respectful, almost reverent. And it should be. The photograph was of her grandfather in his astronaut uniform. “I didn’t realize you were related to Henry Masters,” Scythe said. “Was he the twelfth man to step on the moon?” “The thirteenth,” Luna corrected. She wasn’t quite comfortable with the conversation and wasn’t sure where it was headed. Scythe looked up and down the hallway. “This is his house.” She nodded. “I’ve lived here my entire life. He raised me after my parents died.” “How long has he been gone?” “A little over a year.” “About the time you started using your powers in public?” She flushed and was glad her mask hid most of it. For once, he didn’t push her. Instead, he ran his fingers down the center of her chest. He caught the stone at the end of her necklace and held it in his palm. “It’s a moon rock.” Luna swallowed hard. “He brought it back with him. NASA never knew he didn’t give them all the samples.” Scythe’s thumb rubbed over the precious rock in wonder. “It’s the source of your powers?” Her lips flattened. “No.”


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However close they were getting, whatever she was feeling, she couldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t share that vital a secret, especially with someone with questionable intentions. Yet she wasn’t lying. The stone might have been her source at one time. It might have been the instigator for the powers that had developed inside her. So might all the other souvenirs her grandfather had stowed away for himself. And her. She’d loved the sky as a child. She used to lie on her back, watching the stars and seeking out planets. She’d soaked up any information she could about the heavens and the solar system, but the moon had been her favorite. She retrieved the stone from Scythe’s hand and let it drop back into place between her breasts. She’d worn the rock in one form or another since she was three. It was never off her person, had spent more time against her skin than any other item she owned. To say it had rubbed off on her was putting it lightly. At some point, she’d become one with the moon. She’d picked up its traits. But Scythe was right. It was only after her grandfather, the legendary astronaut, had died that she’d started using her powers for good. What he didn’t know was that she didn’t need the rock anymore to shine. She looked him in the eye, waiting for a smirk or a knowing cock of his head. He did neither. “What’s the source of yours?” she asked boldly. He shrugged. “I grew up on a farm.” Surprised, her chin came up. It put her mouth in the perfect place for his kiss. He moved before she knew it, sliding his hand to the nape of her neck and pulling her forward. His kiss was warm and intimate. His lips sealed to hers, and his tongue swept deep. There was lust in the contact, always lust, but something else too. Fondness? Tenderness?

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Possessiveness? He was catching her by the hand before she could discern the nebulous connection that was somehow growing between them. He gave her a tug, and determination hardened his jaw. “Lead me to your lair.” “What?” She tugged back. “Absolutely not.” The blade of the scythe rotated slowly, menacingly. “They’re looking for Luna.” He jerked his head in the direction of the street. “We need to get Luminescence out there. I’m assuming you have some nifty forms of transportation hidden around the place? A secret exit tunnel?” “What makes you think my lair is here?” For once, he actually laughed. The sound was rusty, but it came from deep in his chest. Almost embarrassed, he ran his hand over the skullcap of his costume. “An empty, echoing mansion… Vines growing up the thick stone walls… Hightech security cameras placed in interesting areas…” “Fine.” Her stiletto heels cracked against the floor as she walked past him. “But you’re wearing a blindfold.” He groaned. “Baby, we don’t have time to roll around together again.” She glared over her shoulder at him, but he had the audacity to flash a lopsided smile. “Well, if you insist.” In the end, he wore the blindfold, trusting her to lead him—a blind man carrying a big, sharp axe. When that blindfold came off in the hidden, subterranean vault accessible from the pantry, he became all business. His gaze swept over her superhero workspace. Luna knew she should have felt threatened or defeated. Instead, she felt pride. He was impressed. She could tell from the look on his face.


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It touched something inside her. Dipping her head, she pulled the bandana she’d used as a blindfold on him through her fingers. “Scythe?” “Yeah,” he said, eyeing her grandfather’s collections of space dust, star charts and robotic arms. “Be my partner?” His gaze snapped back to hers. “Absolutely.” Catching her fluttering hands, he kissed her knuckles. “It’s time to bring the game to them.” Scythe was in fan-boy heaven. Luna’s grandfather, Henry Masters, was a legend. An astronaut, an adventurer, a tinkerer and an all-around man’s man, Masters had been an American luminary. As Scythe looked around the secret laboratory, he saw experiments the man had started, woven in with other, more current technology and gadgets. His gaze swept over the fascinating blonde who stood by his side. Out of everything Henry Masters had produced, she was his masterpiece. And someone out there wanted to hurt her. Scythe’s jaw set. Not on his watch. “How do we get out of here?” She gestured towards a door almost hidden behind plant experiments. The stone exterior was echoed here in the basement. She might have blindfolded him, but he’d felt the steps going down and felt the drop in air temperature. “But we have some research to do first.” Bending over in front of a computer terminal, she consulted a notebook and began typing. Like a magnet to steel, his gaze snapped to the rounded curve of her ass. Even under the cape, the lines were sleek and taut. His mouth started to water and he forced himself to walk around in front of her. That only gave him a clear view of her breasts plumped temptingly in that snug black leather bra.

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Damn, he needed to get his brain off her and onto the situation at hand. It wasn’t easy. As Luna, she was sidetracking his thoughts by day, and as Luminescence, she was consuming his dreams at night. She needed him, though. She needed his mind clear, focused and determined. Because Luna and Luminescence, the full package, was in danger. His blade had already taken down one man who’d dared to hurt her. God help those who threatened her now. “Aha!” She punched a button on the keyboard and the printer began to hum. “The car belongs to David Littleton, a security staffer for Senator Durbin.” He circled around behind her, this time focusing on the computer screen. “Was there a red-light camera at that intersection before the restaurant?” Her hair spilled over her shoulder as she looked at him. “I don’t know. Why?” He gave a swift jerk of his head. She moved aside, and he sat down at the keyboard. He propped his weapon against the desk. Why? Because with photo evidence and identification like she’d just gotten, he could do insidious, vindictive things. He began typing and heard a soft snort near his ear. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her laughing. “Hunt and peck?” He sneered at her. “Not all of us have fingers of fury.” She pulled back, looking at him in surprise. He flinched, realizing he’d given away more than he should. He concentrated on the screen and what he was doing. “Wait!” she gasped. “How did you get access to that?” “I hunted, and I pecked and I knocked their firewall down.” Her hand settled on his shoulder as she bent closer to watch the screen. The touch was light, but it shot through him like a pulse. He swore and had to


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backspace. She was sucking him in deeper and deeper. If he wasn’t careful, he’d go under. For good. Dawnie Durbin’s webpage was on the screen, and he glared at the Senator’s phony, smiling face. He could see it all in her—the superiority complex, the unyielding stupidity and the core of meanness. Her clothes were too loud and her hair too mod. She wasn’t working for the people, she was working for herself. He began typing in the email addresses of all the news websites he could find, sending them the incriminating link. She couldn’t smile this away, proof of her cronies meeting with RJ Tyson. The news outlets would go after her like piranhas after a bloody hangnail. “What did Virginia Samms find out about her?” Luminescence asked. “That her vote is for sale. She’s been collecting payments from lobbying interests since before the election.” “Oh my gosh! Did Virginia have proof?” He nodded and hit send. “Of not only that, but about ten other infractions too. The bitch is going down.” And so were her henchmen. Standing, he grabbed his scythe. He gave it a whirl so fast, the blade whistled. “Want to go wreak some havoc, lightness?” Her smile was vengeful, but it gradually dimmed. She looked upwards towards the ceiling and eventually the sky. “I don’t have much power tonight.” He shook his head, and his gaze slid down her scantily clad figure. “You have more powers than you know. Just distract them, baby. I’ll do the rest.”

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Chapter Six

The wind was whipping and the sky was churning as Luna steered her three-wheeled motorcycle through the empty downtown streets. It was late on a weeknight and most people were safe at home, tucked in their beds. Another storm was moving in, the heat and humidity charging up the atmosphere. She shifted as she turned a corner, and the engine growled as she accelerated down a straightaway. Scythe sat on the wide bench behind her. He’d wanted to drive the trike, but this baby was hers. Besides, she’d been a little nervous about handling that wicked-looking scythe on the back. The idea of giving up his weapon had changed his mind. So had the position of the footrests. His big body was wrapped around hers. His thighs pressed into hers, his hips nudged at her bottom, and his arms circled her middle like bands of steel. His face was buried in her hair, and he nuzzled her neck as she tried to drive. She couldn’t imagine the picture the two of them made, his scythe propped up in the air like an evil flag as they roared towards their combined enemy. By pooling their resources, she and Scythe had learned that David Littleton, Durham’s henchman, was staying at the Newcropolis Gardens. The hotel sat on the very edge of the downtown area, bordering on an inner-city slum. The perfect place for slime. It unsettled her that Littleton had been casing her house. He must have seen her when she’d seen him. What had he been planning to do? Take her out

Kimberly Dean

himself? Have her meet an unfortunate accident like Virginia Samms? A shudder ran down her spine but steeled in her gut. Scythe had been watching out for her. For once, she wanted to watch him do his worst. The garish green neon sign of the hotel came into view, and she shifted downward. The roar of the trike’s engine lowered to a purr. She tugged at her cape, and Scythe helped her pull it over her hair. Littleton was still out. Her sources had put him at the hotel; Scythe’s had pinpointed him at a bar just down the street. He must have started tanking up right after he’d left them. Had he seen the two of them together in her yard? Luna pushed the thought out of her head. They were venturing into dangerous territory. She couldn’t let anything distract her, not even the sexy man wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “Drive by the bar slowly,” he said into her ear. She did as instructed, her gaze searching. “His car’s not here.” “He could have walked. Pull over.” She swung over and hugged the curb. “What are you going to do?” “I thought I might walk in and ask after him.” Her eyes widened as he lifted his cape over his head and unlashed his scythe. This, she wanted to see. Swinging her leg over the gas engine, she dismounted the Motor Trike. Scythe loomed over her, his cape billowing in the growing breeze. He looked dark and menacing, so like he had when she’d been on her knees in that dank alleyway. Fear tingled along her nerve endings, but her thighs pressed together hard. He was starting to make her understand the merits of a little fear. She started towards the door of the bar. “Ladies first.” “After you,” he growled.

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A confident sway gripped her hips as she strode across the filthy sidewalk. This felt good, working with someone. Especially someone like him. His presence was big and mean behind her. He might not be good in the common sense, but he’d shielded her, pushed her and confided in her. Even now, he was protecting her. His ultimate goal might be to bring down the Senator and, with it, damage their system, but for once, she focused on herself. He was at her side, and he’d asked her to do one thing. Distract. He pulled the door open. Leaving the hood covering her face, she spread her arms wide. Like a runway model, she strutted into the bar, holding her cape open. The stiletto heels of her black boots rang out against the hardwood flooring. She let her hips swing, bound in their tiny leather hipsters. Her breasts jounced in the corset-like support of her black top. A sense of power filled her, unlike any she’d ever known. All around her, conversation stopped. Mugs froze halfway to thirsty mouths and, in the far corner, a dart flew wide and pierced a wall. “It’s Luminescence,” someone said in awe. A simple, unfiltered joy burst inside her. Someone knew her. Maybe she wasn’t so low-level after all. She lowered her hands to her hips, keeping the cape open and her body on display. “David Littleton?” she called sweetly. In the back booth, a heavy mug bounced against a pock-marked table. The man seated there looked at her with wonder. And lust. He licked his lips as his gaze raked her body. He was a good-looking guy in that plain, cubicle-worker way. In a few years, his hair would thin and his middle would develop a paunch. For now, though, he thought he could have her. She stepped to the side. “My friend Scythe would like to have a word with you.”


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The room began to scramble like an anthill that had just been kicked. Frantic patrons ran, ducked and hid. Scythe’s heavy biker boots rang out as he stepped into the bar. The temperature in the sweaty tavern dropped a good ten degrees with his presence. He looked so ominous, his cape swinging with every step he took. The scythe he carried only added to the dark mystique. He was big, powerful and sinister. And all hers. A proprietary feeling settled in her chest. He’d agreed to be her partner. She was going to make sure it was for more than just one night. In the back booth, Littleton froze. His mouth dropped open as he watched the specter approach him. He gave a full-body quiver before his motor functions snapped back into place. His shoes scuffed the floor and his elbow banged the wall when he scrambled out of the corner. Scythe didn’t pause. He merely pointed his weapon at the fleeing man. “You!” The threat kicked Littleton into high speed, and he was a fast bugger. His head swiveled on his neck as he looked for an escape route. He saw one at the back door. It was protected by an alarm bar and a red sign overhead. He must have feared death more than he feared the police. The alarm started blaring as he burst out of the building. Scythe went right after him. “Fuck!” The surprised curse came from behind Luna. Spinning around, she spotted another man apparently just coming out of the restroom. His gaze was on the back table. He wasn’t handsome, by any stretch of the word, but he was clean

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cut. He looked like an accountant with his hair combed back tidily and his glasses perched on his nose. In fact, he looked like another office worker. “David,” he snapped, his tone impatient and angry. Luna jerked when he spun around and headed for the front door. As he crashed through, she saw him reaching for something at his hip. It was a gun. “Scythe.” All her breath whooshed out of her lungs. It came back on one jagged inhale, and then she was running. She followed thug number two. Why hadn’t they considered that Littleton might not be alone? Legs pushing hard, she ran out the door. The wind was whipping now, howling down the narrow channel between the bar and the building next door. Rain started splattering against her cape. One drop, then two, then ten… She spotted her guy up ahead. If Scythe had chased Littleton down the alleyway, his partner would be able to sneak up behind them. Scythe didn’t know. She had to warn him. Thunder rumbled across the sky, traveling faster than her scream. It drowned out her cry as she darted into the alley. Still, Scythe must have heard her. He spun on his heel, his cape flaring around him. The assailant lifted his gun and fired. Luna screamed again but jerked in surprise when Scythe’s blade whipped down and knocked the speeding bullet away. The clang of metal against metal jolted her, but the blade of Mt. Etna won. And then she watched Scythe work. She’d never seen him in action before, and it was a sight to behold. That big blade of his twirled like a windmill, fending off attack after attack. He was blinding in his speed. Rain poured down around them as he stalked his new prey.


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She flinched when Littleton’s partner pulled the trigger again. Scythe spun on the ball of his foot. This time he didn’t stop the bullet, but he redirected it. It punched into a car window, and the glass exploded into a web of cracks. He was like a ninja, moving around with martial-arts precision and grace. The way he yielded his weapon was beautiful. Athletic and powerful. And way too real. He blocked another speeding bullet when Luna saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Littleton. Oh God, he had a gun too. “Behind you,” she screamed. It was too late. Scythe was a master of his craft, but he couldn’t protect himself from an attack at his back. In slow motion she watched as the bullet hit. Scythe’s big body jerked, bowing backwards at the unexpected blow. He went down on one knee, and then teetered to the side. He braced the foot of the scythe against the ground, leaning on it momentarily, but that left him with no defenses. He was hurt and unprotected. When Durbin’s men realized they had the upper hand, they closed in. Luna screamed for help. Someone. Anyone. They needed backup. And calling for help was her specialty. She didn’t even stop to think. Rain was pelting her, pooling in puddles against the asphalt. The wind was whirling, trapped in the cyclone alley. Overhead, thunder still crashed. The sky was pitch black, the cloud cover hanging low and thick. It didn’t matter. She had to try. She had to do more than try. Throwing back her hood, she freed her hair. It flew in the wind, thrashing and spiraling around her head. Baring her body, she lifted her arms and searched for power. She searched for the moon. She didn’t find it. It wasn’t there.

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Still, her actions had distracted the criminals closing in on her man. Scythe was struggling to get up, using his weapon as a crutch. She couldn’t tell where he was hit or how badly. Lightning crashed, illuminating everything in blinding white. It couldn’t have struck more than a block away, but the strength wasn’t what Luna latched onto. The illumination. The light. The impact nearly knocked the breath out of her, but the stone between her breasts grew hot. Instead of the coolness she felt when using the moon, her skin was seared. Her head snapped back, and she lifted her palms, trapping the energy. It was sizzling, almost burning. And she glowed. Beams of white light streamed from her, shining into the corners and making the men before her squint. Her hair whipped around like sparks. This was more power than she’d ever handled before. She didn’t know how long she could contain it. Another burst of lightning hit, crashing simultaneously with the thunder. She amped up until she was glowing like a spotlight. Her palms closed. She wasn’t letting this go. She wasn’t going to allow them to hurt him anymore. Sirens split the air. If she could have sagged in relief, she would have. Her power of attraction was still working. She hadn’t known if it would. “Scythe,” she called when he stumbled down onto one knee. Holding her power, shining it where she wanted, she hurried towards him. Durbin’s thugs lifted their arms to shield their eyes. Finally, they could bear it no more. When the sirens became louder than the storm, they turned and ran down the alleyway.


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“Scythe.” Luna fell onto her knees to catch him. He was a big man and heavy. She knew how heavy from the times they’d made love, only now he couldn’t hold himself up. She helped him lie down. In the grit and grime, he looked up at her. “How did you do that?” he rasped. She shrugged. Her body was still hot, and her skin glimmered with some internal energy source. “You’re luminescent, Luminescence,” he said with a cough. “You’re funny.” She wasn’t laughing as she took off her cape and balled it under his head. His shoulder. He’d been hit in the shoulder, the wound starting in the back and exiting in the front. “Sirens,” he said. “Help’s coming.” She undid his cape and yanked it out from underneath him. She wrapped it around him, trying to prevent shock. “Cops.” Yes, the Calvary was coming. Did he not understand? Was he delirious? His hand caught her wrist and squeezed. She looked into his gray eyes. They were pained and glassy. The mask. Oh God, of course. He was on the most-wanted list. He was Scythe. Excited voices came from the front of the bar. She didn’t even stop to think. Grabbing his spandex shirt, she began peeling it upwards. The material clung, and his body was sweaty. She worked it up to his chest, exposing hard muscles and smooth skin. “Sorry. Sorry,” she apologized as she rolled the stretchy fabric over his wounded shoulder. She winced when she saw his torn flesh.

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As much as it hurt, and even knowing what she intended to do, he moved his arms to help her. Finally, she had it off his body. Rain poured down on him, making his blood slide off in a pink torrent. She had to stop the bleeding. She kneeled at his head. Rocks and glass bit into her bare knees, but she didn’t feel it. He was the one who was hurt. What had that bullet caught as it tunneled its way through his body? “I’m sorry.” She looked down into his gray eyes. He knew that this time she wasn’t apologizing for the inadvertent pain she was causing. Supporting his head, she peeled his costume upwards. She bared the back of his neck. His damp hair tickled her fingers. Using a quick back-to-front motion, she exposed the crown of his head. His hair was black. Black and slick. Gathering the shirt up the rest of the way, she pulled the mask portion off his face. Handsome, hard features looked up at her, and Luna gasped. Griffin Tate. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to check the record.” Oh God, it was really him. There was no time to stare. No time to try to put two and two together. With care, she rolled him halfway onto his side. She pressed the wad of material against his open wound and helped him lie back down atop it. It would provide a good compress—and hide that part of his costume. Footsteps rustled in the narrow space between the bar and the apartment building they were behind. Luna thought quickly. The scythe. She grabbed it and scrambled to her feet. Where could she hide it? She spied an open window on the first floor of the apartment building. It was dark and seemed deserted. She thrust the scythe inside, and was running back to Tate when the police came around the corner. “Stop right—”


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They got one look at her and their words trailed off. Without her cape, Luminescence was practically laid bare. “He’s been shot.” She dropped to her knees. “Please help me,” she pleaded. His cape had slithered to the ground at his side, and she gathered it before anyone could see what it was. She needed another compress anyway. Wadding it up, she pressed it to the ugly hole in his shoulder. He tensed and moaned. She caught his hand, and a long, easing breath left him. A young cop leaned over them. “Did it catch an artery?” “I…I dunno.” Shock was catching up with her, and she started to shake. Scythe squeezed her hand. His face was white, so white, and he didn’t glow like she had. He was too pale. Deathly pale. “I don’t think so,” he told the cop tightly. Another policeman was on his radio calling for an ambulance. A siren wailed, only blocks away. She’d already summoned one herself. God, she hoped it got here in time. “The men who shot him.” She pointed down the alleyway. “They went that way. One’s name is David Littleton. The other, I don’t know.” Two cops started in that direction with their guns drawn. “What about Scythe?” “That way too,” she lied. The young cop stayed with her, going down on his haunches. “How are you doing, sir? Wait. Is that—?” “Griffin Tate.” She looked him over, trying to see him as the cop would. In black jeans and boots, he was dressed like any other guy in the bar. She had his shirt wadded up underneath him and his cape in her fist. Most importantly, she’d gotten rid of his beloved scythe.

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“The defense attorney?” “Yeah,” Tate answered for himself. “Can you tell us what happened, sir?” He gritted his teeth. “Littleton shot me in the back.” “Did you see the other man?” “No. Lights, thunder, explosion…” “I saw him,” Luna said. The cop pulled out his notebook, and she proceeded to give him the best description he’d ever gotten from a witness. She was a court reporter, and she’d learned a thing or two about the reliability of witnesses and what the experts said was important to remember. From that point on, everything was a blur. She stayed with Tate, trying to keep his bleeding under control. When the ambulance arrived, she climbed in the back with him. Everyone stared at her leather bikini and high-heeled boots, but she didn’t care. She was Luminescence, a heroine with a quickly growing reputation. They could stare at her all they wanted as long as it kept the attention off Griffin and what he was doing in that secluded alley. She kept the compress tight to his shoulder as the EMT left the ambulance to retrieve his medical kit. “Did you have to throw the scythe away?” Tate asked grumpily. She rolled her eyes. That was what worried him? “I did if you didn’t want your identity revealed.” His mouth worked. “So what do you think of it? The identity, I mean. Are you disappointed?” She cocked her head. “You’ve picked on me in that courtroom for months.” “Because I thought you were hot.”


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“In those ugly suits?” “Hot and cute.” “You’re delirious,” she muttered. He squeezed her hand. “Will you get it back?” He was still worried about his weapon. “Tomorrow,” she promised. “I could use it. Did you see the grass in my yard? It’s way too long.” He let out a choked laugh as the paramedic jumped in and closed the door. “Lightness, I wasn’t looking at the grass.”

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“Be careful,” Luna warned as they climbed the stairs. “Don’t push yourself.” “I’m just walking, baby. That’s not pushing.” “Yes, but you’ve been in the hospital.” Flat on his back. Griffin knew. The forced immobility had nearly driven him crazy. Fortunately, he’d been lucky. The bullet had gone straight through, missing bone. It had tangled with a few muscles and tendons. He’d have to work through some physical therapy, but if one had to be shot in the back, this was the way to do it. The doctors assured him he’d make a full recovery. He wasn’t as certain. He was struggling not to breathe hard as he made it to the second-floor landing. He’d have to see how he could work his scythe before he’d be happy. Luna hurried to open the bedroom door, and he glanced at the photograph of her grandfather on the wall before stepping inside. It was already dark outside, and shadows dimmed the corners. It had taken him forever to get his release papers, but she’d insisted he come straight here to recuperate. As he looked at the big, plush bed, things other than recuperating came to mind. Refusing to show how much the steps had taxed him, he leaned against the nearby dresser and watched her set his bag on a chair. She was Luna tonight, sexy and natural. There was no sign of the dowdy court reporter and only a hint of Luminescence. He liked this version of her best, although the others were close behind. He certainly lusted after all three. He just wasn’t sure that lust was enough for him.

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“Are you sure you want me here?” he asked. She sent him a glare but said nothing. The flash of spirit got him going, like it always did. He was way past lust when it came to how he felt about her, and it had been that way for a while. But how did she feel about him in return? Could she really deal with the dark side of him? Could she accept the things he did? The tactics he chose? Because he wasn’t going to stop. Dawnie Durbin had gone down in flames because of the actions they’d taken against her. Their esteemed Senator was currently wearing the orange jumpsuit stylings of the state judicial system. From what he’d heard through the legal grapevine, the prosecutors were still trying to sort through all the charges. Whichever ones stuck, dear Dawnie wouldn’t be smiling condescendingly on her subjects anymore. She was going to be an inhabitant of the state’s prison system, whose budget she’d been so eager to cut. He rubbed his shoulder. Nobody deserved it more, except for maybe the man who’d shot him in the back. David Littleton and his cohort had been caught only blocks from the scene of the crime. The two had been charged in the attack on him, but they were trying to claim self-defense. They insisted that they’d shot another man—one who’d come at them with an ungodly knife. Some had started to put two and two together, but Luminescence had nipped that in the bud. Lying more easily than he would have expected, she contended that he’d been at the bar because of the connection between the henchmen and his client. He’d been trying to gather proof for the trial but had gotten caught in the crossfire. Scythe’s involvement with the DC gang was unknown, but he’d gotten away.

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Even now, Griffin had to shake his head. His bombshell blonde had been so adamant—and so scantily clad—that the boys in blue couldn’t help but believe her. Good girl or not, she was one hell of a woman. “How are you feeling?” she asked. “Where’s my scythe?” He felt naked without it. With the identities they both assumed at night, there would always be danger lurking. He wanted to know he could protect her. She rolled her eyes. “Not that you should even be thinking about using it, but it’s underneath the bed.” That made him feel more at ease, even if he wasn’t sure he could wield his weapon. Still, he had to tease her. “That’s not very superhero-like. Where’s the secret compartment?” She smiled, knowing what he was doing. “You’re lucky that blade is in the room.” So was he, and he knew it. “Are you okay with this?” he asked quietly. “All of it?” Her happy gaze flicked away uncertainly. She wandered to the window and looked outside into the darkness. The storms had passed and stars dotted the horizon. The moon was bright, lighting her soft skin in a way he’d find forever fascinating. “Why do you do it?” she asked. “How can you defend people you know are rotten at their core?” He’d been waiting for that question. “Because some are innocent, and they deserve good counsel.” Her hair shifted around her shoulders. “But how can you go out at night and fight on their side? You’re not evil. I know you’re not.”


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Black and white, that was still all she saw. It was all he ever wanted her to see. That pureness was what made her Luna. “I fight those who are worse than me. Really, there’s not much difference between you and me.” She stiffened. “How can you say that?” “We both take matters into our own hands when the legal system fails.” “But you’re the one who gets them off! A lot of those people you defend walk free. Look at RJ Tyson.” “RJ is not walking free. That video worked both ways. It took the Senator down and RJ too.” “But you were defending him. If we hadn’t caught Tyson with the Senator’s people, you would have convinced the jury to let him go.” “I would have found him later, once I’d gotten what I needed out of him. Believe me, baby, slime like him would have met the sharp side of my blade.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “Why defend him in first place? Why not use the justice system as it was intended?” “Because then people like our little Dawnie would get away with it.” He raked his hand through his hair. “People like RJ are tiny cogs in the machine, but they can be useful for information. How do you think I found out about Dawnie Durbin in the first place?” A confused look settled onto her pretty face. Unable to stay away from her, he moved closer. He had to make her understand. “I go after the people who deserve it, the ones who think they can get away with anything because of who they are or how much money they have. If a few of the street fighters walk away clean, it doesn’t hurt my conscience any. They’ll pay the price later.”

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Blade of Moonlight

She frowned. “But what about that banker on the west side? Didn’t you, Scythe, lock him in the bank’s vault until he suffocated?” “The man was a pedophile.” Her eyes widened in revulsion. “The Evangelical preacher?” “Stealing from the coffers to pay for his mistress.” “The schoolteacher?” “Arsonist.” Her lips parted in surprise. “So you’re the judge and jury.” “And the executioner.” He planted his hands on his hips to keep from reaching for her. His chest hurt, not from the wound in his shoulder but from holding his breath. “Can you accept that?” The moon shone against her back, making her light hair look like a halo around her. She’d put herself into danger to come to his rescue. He might not even be alive if not for her. He watched her skin shimmer, illuminating reflexively, and his chest squeezed tighter. He couldn’t believe what he’d seen her do the other night in that pouring rainstorm. As the wind had whipped and the sky had churned, she’d accessed powers he hadn’t even known she had. It still made him lightheaded, just thinking about the way she’d summoned the light to her. She’d taken a lightning strike for him. She’d soaked up all that energy and thrust it right back at the men looming over him, ready to finish him off. Had she known she could do that? What if it hadn’t worked? She could have been the one who’d ended up in the hospital. Or worse. Slowly, she reached out to him. Her palms pressed flat against his belly, and he nearly groaned. He’d had too little of her touch.


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Kimberly Dean

“You’re not a bad guy,” she whispered. “You just want everyone to think you are.” “I’m not good. Good guys follow the rules.” He slid his fingers into her hair and cupped the side of her face. “I’m a vigilante. Do you think you can live with that? Because I can’t change, not even for you.” “I don’t want you to.” The hands on his belly rubbed reassuringly. His heart leapt, but he shook his head. “You’re a superheroine, Luna. You’re Luminescence. You can’t be seen with me.” “Of course, I can. Haven’t you heard? We’re having a torrid affair.” His chin snapped back. “Who said that?” “It’s all over the city. Good and evil mean nothing when it comes to lust. People saw us together in that bar, Scythe.” She smiled. “We might as well give them what they want—and what we want too.” His fingers fisted in her soft hair. She shouldn’t look at him that way. She couldn’t have stars or the moon in her eyes. “The day job isn’t going to be any easier. Somebody’s going to say there’s a conflict of interest when we’re both in the courtroom.” “Which is why I talked to Judge Winston. She’s going to make sure we don’t work the same trials again. She had us figured out, by the way.” It was all a little too much for Griffin to take in. “She did?” Luna’s fingers stroked his stomach. Already, his muscles were trembling. “There’s only so many times a smart defense attorney should need to consult the court record,” she murmured, looking at him through her lashes. He let out a long breath that stirred the tendrils of hair around her face. She was so gorgeous, so spunky. He’d tried to give her an out to this relationship, but she hadn’t taken it. And he certainly wasn’t going to let go of her.

90


Blade of Moonlight

“Torrid, huh?” She bit her lip, and her cheeks flushed. “That’s what they say.” He slid his hands around her waist and stepped closer. “I’d hate to make them liars, whoever they are.” “Griffin,” she squeaked when the backs of her knees hit the mattress. “Your shoulder.” “Has nothing to do with the part of me that’s aching right now.” Suddenly, he was bursting with energy. It streamed through his veins and adrenalized his muscles. He felt like he could do anything. Right now, the only thing he wanted to do was her. He pushed her gently, and she toppled back onto the bed. Her hands came up instinctively, but she dropped them to her sides when she realized she was about to clutch his shoulders. He crawled onto the bed atop her, kissing her as he settled into place. Her lightness might be the only thing that could pull him back from the darkness. He’d been teetering on a dangerous precipice for a long time. He shuddered when her soft hands caught him by the waist. Opening her mouth, she accepted his tongue. “Touch me,” he whispered. He’d spent too much time around her masked. He’d stroked and kissed nearly every inch of her amazing body, but he’d felt like he’d been in a full-body condom. She hadn’t been able to touch him, and he was starved for her hands on him. She squirmed as she tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans. Her hands spread wide across his back, and her nails gave a sharp nip. His cock jumped, ready to break his zipper. Holy hell, if her touch on his back did that to him, what would it do to him if she really got down to business?


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He hoped he’d find out. “More.” His head dropped as she stroked up and down his spine. Her breath hitched, though, when she ran into the bandage protecting his shoulder. “No.” She worked like a worm, trying to get out from underneath him. “We can’t.” “We can.” They had to. Sitting back on his haunches, he carefully pulled the T-shirt over his head. Her mouth circled into a horrified O as she reached up to touch the big white bandage. Nasty purple bruises spread wider than it covered. “You’re still hurt.” “And I need you to kiss it and make it better.” Going against every instinct inside him, he moved off her, but he didn’t leave her. He spread out on the bed, lying on his back. “I’ll take it easy,” he promised. “Just touch me. Please.” Her blue gaze ran over him hungrily, and he realized he wasn’t the only one who’d felt cheated. He’d kept her naked most of the time they’d been together, but she hadn’t seen him. She hadn’t even known who he was. The thought froze him in his tracks. Was that it? “Don’t you want me? Is it Scythe that does it for you?” That blue gaze slammed into his. “Griffin Tate, you’ve had me horny for months.” He blinked at her in shock. She came up on one elbow. “Staring at me in the courtroom when everyone else ignored me… Hovering by my chair when you should have been standing over the jury… Challenging my work over and over again…” Her hand was on his belt, tracing the buckle, and his hips jumped when her fingers brushed over him. “It was the only way I could talk to you,” he said. “I wanted you to notice me.”

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“I noticed.” Her fingers were deft as she undid the belt she found so intriguing. They both watched as she unzipped his jeans and slid her hand inside. His hips rolled when her fingers wrapped around him, and his shoulders pressed into the mattress as he arched. Pain lanced through him. “Ahh.” She yanked her hand away. “No, don’t stop.” He caught her wrist and kissed her palm. Holding her gaze, he directed her touch back where he wanted it, back where he needed it. “Slow and easy. You set the pace.” He wanted this more than his next breath. He needed to know they could be together, as a couple. She bit her lip but took the time to unzip his jeans and pull them down. When she touched him this time, the graze of her fingertips was light and airy. Her thumb circled over the head of his penis, and he felt like he’d died and gone to heaven. “Luna.” Rising over him, she got rid of his shoes and jeans. He felt exposed as she looked down at his naked body. Exposed, vulnerable and thoroughly excited. He’d never let a woman take charge before, but he’d give her the keys to the car any day. Her gaze stroked over him, making his balls pull tight and his skin begin to itch. She turned off the bed lamp. The room dimmed, but the light coming through the window gave the space a sexy, bluish cast. She caught the hem of the sporty little dress she wore and pulled it over her head. She dropped it to the floor, and her hair swung around her shoulders. It picked up the moon’s rays, almost sparkling. God, she was something.


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Kimberly Dean

Griffin’s mouth watered as she stripped in the moonlight. She was sexy and uninhibited. Her lingerie was closer to something Luminescence might pick. The tiny straps of stretchy fabric made him want to howl, but they were soon gone, making him want to beg. He trembled, trying to hold himself still as she crawled atop him. Kissing her way up his chest, she placed gentle pecks around the bandage until she finally met his lips. Her breasts were soft against his chest, and her hair spread protectively around his shoulder. She pulled back an inch to look into his eyes. “Why did you tie me up that first time?” “I didn’t know what the extent of your powers were.” His fingers tested the firmness of her butt. “Some of your kind hold their power in their hands.” She certainly did. God, why hadn’t he let her touch him sooner? Damned costume. His fingers dipped deeper into the seam of her ass, and her neck arched. Satisfaction coursed through him. He wasn’t the only one who was turned on. Lifting his head, he nuzzled against her neck. “Besides, seeing you open and ready for me made me hard.” Her hips rocked suggestively. “Like this?” He groaned. “Just like.” She tsked and dropped a kiss on his bandage. “You have to lie still.” And that wasn’t going to be easy. “I’ll try.” But he wasn’t just going to take it lying down. Burrowing between the soft globes of her bottom, he touched skin that was rarely exposed. Her entire body jerked, but he kept tickling her there. He rubbed and gave her a tender scratch. She went wild on him but jerked still and let out a shuddering breath. “Stop that. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

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Blade of Moonlight

She shimmied away. Her kisses glided down his chest, and her tongue dipped into his belly button. Griffin saw stars—or maybe that was the moon again. Her breasts plumped tight against his abdomen. He could feel the hard stone of her necklace resting at the base of his cock. “Luna!” Her mouth was on him then, wide and slick. She swirled her tongue around him as if he were a sweet lollipop. His hands fisted in her hair. It was spread all over him, gliding over his chest and licking at his thighs. Oh God. He was going to come. It was too soon. He wanted to be inside her. “Lightness,” he gasped. A devilish glint was in his superheroine’s eyes when she looked at him through her lashes. Good and bad could be wrapped in the same package. Crawling back into position, she rose onto her haunches. Moonlight caught her then, caressing her curves and making her glow. Her breasts jiggled, and her hips worked naughtily. Sinking down, she guided him to her opening. Griffin’s hands settled on her trembling thighs. He was breathing so hard, his shoulder was throbbing, but he wasn’t about to tell her. Nothing could have stopped him now, not sirens or even bullets. She took him into her almost too slowly, and blue curses flew under his breath. She made an adjustment and sank down hard. They both groaned. She was slick and so tight. His fingers bit into her thighs, but then they were bunching again. She began moving on him, up and down. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever felt. He watched her breasts bounce and the expressions on her face. “Luna.” His Luna, his Luminescence. His love.


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Kimberly Dean

Luna looked down at the man beneath her. Griffin Tate was in her bed, sprawled out like a sexy centerfold. This was the man she’d avoided for months. He’d irked her to no end and aroused her to all lengths. She’d never thought she’d have him where she wanted him. He’d worked for the wrong side. He stood for everything she was against. She was learning that the line between good and evil could waver. His hands settled over her breasts and her head fell back in pleasure. He’d caught her, and she felt as bound as she had when he’d tied her up. He was hard inside her, but it was the expression on his face that captivated her. He didn’t think he was good enough for her. She’d thought he was out of her league. Rolling her hips, she took him deeper. They’d both been wrong. They were the perfect match. An urgency rose inside her, and her muscles started to clench. Bending forward, she planted her hands on each side of his head. Her hair came over them, a white cloak this time. She didn’t want a good guy. She wanted him. Her hips slapped down and shot back up. His hands stayed with her, squeezing her breasts and stroking down to her hips. She knew she was being too rough. His shoulder wasn’t up for this, but she’d nearly lost him. The white bandage glowed like a beacon before her eyes. She’d watched him take that bullet, and she’d nearly died herself. He’d warned her to stay away from him, but never again. She wanted him as close as she could get him—as close as he was now. She loved him. His hand cupped the nape of her neck, and he pulled her down for a long, slow kiss. The sensations, the emotions… They overwhelmed her, bubbling up

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and gaining strength. The moon suddenly made another appearance, and her skin tingled. It all blended together and she came in a burst of glowing blue light. Moonlight radiated from her skin, lightening the corners and all the dark places. The energy collected low in her belly, and her head spun. Beneath her, Griffin let out a shout. Hot come filled her and energy crackled in the room. His, hers and the moon’s. But like all nights, the moon had to set. Sagging over him, Luna tried to catch her breath. So did her lover. She watched as his muscled chest worked. Weakly, she bent down and kissed his wounded shoulder. “All you all right?” “Ask me again when the top of my head is reattached,” he muttered. Still, his hand stroked up her back. “I love when you do that.” She disconnected their bodies and cuddled up beside him. “Orgasms aren’t difficult when you’re with the right guy.” “Right guy?” She blushed, and he kissed her forehead. “I love that too,” he said, “but I was talking about the glowing.” She frowned. “The glowing?” “You shine like the moon when you come.” “I do what?” “Your skin starts to glow, and you emit this incredible energy. I can feel it when I’m inside you. It makes me crazy.” She looked at him in wonder. “I didn’t know… I don’t really have any control over it.” “All the better.” Happiness speared through her, and she spread her hand over his heart. She could be herself around him, Luna and Luminescence all in one. “Are we done arguing about whether we belong together?”


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Kimberly Dean

He chuckled under his breath. “Oh yeah.” “Will you show me your lair?” “I’ll show you anything you want.” “Good.” She traced a finger over a muscle in his rib cage. “I won’t have to call Trailblazer back.” His head snapped towards her. “Trailblazer?” She grinned. It was exactly the reaction she’d hoped for. “I guess I’m not so low-level anymore. Not since I started hanging out with the baddest guy in town.” His jaw was so hard, she didn’t know how she hadn’t identified him as Scythe before. “That arrogant, tree-hugging prick. I’ll wring his scrawny neck.” Delighted, she tickled his five o’clock shadow. “Partners?” His arm tightened around her waist. “Partners.” She pulled the covers over them. “Scythe, you mow me over.” He laughed, the sound almost a bark. Turning onto his good side, he kissed her hard and fast. “Yeah? Well, baby, you light up my world.”

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About the Author

Kimberly Dean is an award-winning romance author of over twenty books. Her work has been sold around the world and translated into French, German and Japanese. She enjoys the freedom and creativity allowed in writing romance, especially with all the interesting cross-genres that have been exploding on the scene. When not writing, she enjoys movies, sports, traveling, music and sunshine.

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No super deed goes unpunished…

Breaking Bad

© 2012 Jodi Redford A Midnight Justice Story It’s been twenty-five years since the last Light Guardian was wiped out. Or so it’s believed. Ruby Winston is about to blow the lid off that theory, even though it’ll bring every Shadow Czar minion down on her ass. She’s always known she was different from the rest of the evil-dictators-intraining Winstons. Uncovering the secret half of her gene pool proves it. Now she’s out to bring down her late father’s mind-control soda empire—and break the Shadow Czars’ hold on Earth. Problem is, becoming a superhero overnight isn’t as easy as it looks. Teague Younger has his own secrets to keep: his heritage, and his fierce determination to exact revenge on his friend and mentor’s murderer. So far he’s kept his cover—until he’s forced to use his Light Guardian powers to save Ruby from a sticky situation. Thrust together and on the run, Teague and Ruby form a wary alliance as they desperately fight their circuit-blowing attraction. With an army of Shadow Queen minions hot on their tails, they might have a hard time surviving the night, much less ignoring their hearts. Warning: This book contains mind-controlling beverages, evil dictators and minions, excessive use of spandex, and enough electrifying sex to melt an ice train.

She could resist this bad boy…if he wasn’t so darned good at it.

Superlovin’

© 2012 Vivi Andrews A Midnight Justice Story Darla Powers, a.k.a. DynaGirl, is the Jessica Rabbit of crime fighters, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy finding a date. When her latest ex opines she’s not helpless enough to make him feel manly, she flies off to take out her romantic frustrations on a villain dumb enough to pick tonight to break into a secret government vault. Lucien Wroth’s father may be a famous supervillain, but Lucien doesn’t see himself as a bad guy. Just one determined to free his baby sister from a supercriminal’s clutches. He’s this close to getting his hands on a vital set of schematics when one sultry superheroine catches him elbow-deep in a top-secret safe. Darla is horrified when Lucien’s pretty face—and bulging muscles—distract her enough to let him get away. No one escapes DynaGirl. But somewhere along the way to getting revenge for her public humiliation, she and Lucien become uneasy allies…resisting an all-too-easy attraction. Suddenly she suspects the perfect man for a good girl just might be a very bad boy. Warning: This book contains heroes, villains, mind-games, epic battles, bustiers, leather, and an infamous “Women of the Cape” Maxim photo spread. Enjoy the following excerpt for Superlovin’: “You’ll never…escape,” she declared breathlessly, looking rather adorably determined laid out flat on the cement with rubble in her hair.

He would’ve laughed if he could spare the oxygen. “You don’t know how to…admit defeat, do you?” He couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. Deluded though it may be. “What makes you…think I’m…defeated?” “The inability to get a full sentence out without gulping for air is a tell, sweetheart,” he grunted, barely getting the sentence out himself without taking a gulp. “I’d like to see you fly across the city twice in an hour, one of those times carrying a two-ton delinquent.” He arched a brow. “I’m a big boy, but I’m not quite that big, princess.” Her eyes narrowed at the suggestive lilt in his voice, pretty mouth pursing. “I was talking about the weight of your ego.” “Then you must be constantly exhausted. How do you manage to lift yours, even with the superstrength?” She made a face at him. The darling of the press, always poised and perfect, crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. Which, perversely, just made him want to kiss her. Not a bad idea, actually. He needed something to distract her at the right moment, and nothing was likely to unsettle the Powers Princess more than one of the unwashed masses daring to lay his lips on her. And, yeah, he was a guy, so he’d pretty much wanted to lay one on her since she’d posed for Maxim’s Women of the Cape issue. He’d dreamt about that magazine—dark, steamy, grinding, Technicolor dreams with Miss Goody Two Shoes as their very naughty star. Those pillowy lips were an open invitation, far too wicked for someone so sanctimoniously pure. Sadly, DynaGirl didn’t seem to be in the mood to play.

“What did you take?” she demanded. The very proper Miss Powers was like a freaking terrier when she set her mind to something. She shoved hard on his shoulder, rolling them over so she knelt straddling his stomach. He let her be on top. For now. Her gaze flicked down his body, searching for a spot he could’ve stashed the papers. “What did you go back for?” Lucien kept half an ear out for the sound of the next train and conjured up a lazy grin. He let his gaze linger on the way the dark, stretchy fabric of her supersuit cupped the curve of her breasts. “Would you like to frisk me? Cuz I know I’d like it.” “Knock it off. You’re caught. Give it up.” “I’m caught, am I? How are you planning to get me back to that lovely holding cell? Flying didn’t work out so well for you last time.” She reached to the belt on her hip, pulled out a phone, swiped a thumb across the touchpad without looking and held it up to her ear with a smugly triumphant smirk. A smirk which faded as she pulled it away from her ear to glare at the uncooperative device. “No service?” he purred. Thank God for the crappy reception of subway tunnels. His abilities were too far blown to handle the cavalry right now. “I’ll fly you there if I have to,” DynaGirl declared, but the first waver of doubt edged her tone. Supers could do superhuman things—hence the name—but there was only so far they could push themselves before they crashed with a power hangover that would bring the gods to their knees. Lucien was inches from his own breaking point and, from the tremor in her voice, it sounded like his tenacious little sex kitten of a nemesis was right there with him.

Which meant she was vulnerable. He just needed one more sprint. He could last a few more seconds before his brain exploded into white-hot agony. He had to. For Mirabelle. He heard the distant electrical whine of a train coming down the tracks. Three minutes, give or take… Lucien let the icy-hot pain starting to spike in his temples show on his face. “I could come quietly,” he said, making his voice tight with strain. “For a price.” “I don’t negotiate with supervillains.” “Not even for my surrender? My complete surrender.” Interest lit her up-tilted emerald eyes, but her jaw remained clenched in an unyielding line. “No deals. I won’t bribe you to play nice when you’ve already lost.” “But all I wanted was a kiss.” She went motionless above him, as if she’d forgotten the need to breathe. “One little kiss,” he purred. “And I’ll go meekly to my jail cell. No tricks. No trouble.” He couldn’t read her expression. Something odd and almost hopeful colored the suspicion in her gaze. She hesitated. The train rattled closer. Her fingers eased their death grip on his hair. “Why?” “Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a shot at the great Darla Powers. Who hasn’t? That Maxim spread changed my life.” Her eyes darkened. “That damn magazine—” “Hey, don’t damn that magazine. I could compose sonnets to that magazine. Especially your issue. I think you single-handedly launched a generation of twelve-year-old boys into puberty with that spread.” The picture had become a

cultural icon. Darla Powers, the super answer to Marilyn Monroe. “Tell me you still have the bustier and I’ll die happy.” She blushed. “That is none of your business.” Dear God, she still has it. Unwholesome interest stirred below Lucien’s belt. He’d been joking, but now he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Her incredible figure overflowing the snug black lace with a shimmering red D curled under one breast in a parody of her suit. Maybe she still wore it. Maybe she put it on for the schmuck boyfriend who’d let her walk out on their date. Jealousy gave his gut an ugly twist, but he ignored it. She wasn’t with her schmuck boyfriend now. “One kiss,” he said, the words coming out as more of a demand than he’d intended, his voice so dark and hungry he barely recognized it. “One kiss and I’ll do whatever you want.” The words were supposed to be a lie, but at the moment he almost believed them himself. Darla Powers was a woman who could own a man’s soul if she put her mind to it. If she could let herself be that bad… She leaned over him, and he sank his hand into the curls at the base of her skull. “C’mon, princess,” he coaxed, his gaze locked on her pillowy lips. “Even good girls get to be bad sometimes.” She went rigid in his arms. “No. We don’t.” The train was nearly there now. Ten seconds… Darla began to resist his hold, but Lucien had run out of time for persuasion. Now or never. He sat up and twisted abruptly, using a pulse of superspeed to get her sprawled on her back before she realized negotiations were over. He caught her startled gasp on his lips. The kiss was a sneak attack—quick and fierce and designed to startle and unsettle her. It wasn’t supposed to sear across his nerve endings with unexpected

heat. He wasn’t supposed to be tempted to fall into the taste of her and abandon his will to fight. Soft, warm, luscious—the definition of a dangerous woman. Her hands fell away from his hair, shoving at his shoulders without any real strength as she made the most deliciously wanton noise in her throat. In a different world, he would stay here and finish what they’d started, explore this incendiary chemistry, coax that sound from her again and again. But she was still a hero and he’d long since been cast in the villain role. If he wanted any future for his sister, he couldn’t waste time playing doctor with DynaGirl. The first train car thundered into the abandoned station. He threw himself off her. “Sorry, princess.” The last of his reserves went into a surge of superspeed as he leapt onto the tracks and sprinted down the tunnel in front of the engine. The racing train sealed the tunnel entrance behind him before DynaGirl could gather herself to follow. He didn’t have time to thrill at the victory of escape. He was too busy trying to maintain his speed until he reached the next platform so he didn’t end up a bloody smear on the tracks. Lucien ran, his head slowly exploding, the stolen papers crinkling in his pocket with the sound of success, Darla’s taste still sweet on his lips.

Saving the world is easy for a superhero—unless you’re a fraud.

Blaze of Glory

© 2010 Sheryl Nantus Jo Tanis is a superhero, fighting evil on the city streets, using her ability to feed off electromagnetic energy and fire off charges—and it’s all just a show. The Agency captures her and others like her when their powers begin to manifest, pitting them against each other in staged, gladiatorial fights. An explosive implant on the back of her neck assures she’ll keep right on smiling for the camera and beating up the bad guys. When Earth comes under attack, suddenly the show becomes deadly real. Unable to deal with a real alien, the “supers” are falling in droves. Millions of innocent civilians are going to die…unless Jo can cobble together a team from among the fake heroes and villains the Agency enslaved. Including Hunter, who not only promises to show her how to deactivate the implants, but seems to know more than he should about how the mysterious Agency operates. Forcing a rag-tag bunch of former enemies to work together is the least of Jo’s problems. The trick is determining if Hunter is friend or foe—and becoming the hero everyone thought she was before the world is destroyed for real. Warning: Contains superhero in-jokes, Canadiana and large alien craft shaped like avocados. Really. Enjoy the following excerpt for Blaze of Glory: “When we arrived at the training facility we were given a choice—to be heroes or villains.” My smile appeared, despite the mood. “Couldn’t pass up the chance to be a star.”

“Who would decide to be a villain?” David pressed his lips together tightly as he helped himself to one of the sandwich triangles. I shrugged. “People with issues. People who didn’t want to play nice. It was a whole psychological thing, I didn’t ask.” My hand went to the back of my neck, to the scar tissue. “Long story made short, the Agency controlled us with this. Gave the power to our Guardians to blow our heads off if we started getting ornery or if we tried to run away.” “Your Guardian?” both Jessie and David asked at the same time. “Mike.” A dull ache started in my chest as I spoke. “He was my Guardian. Had a special wristband that could set this thing off.” “But he’s…” David paused, probably out of concern for my feelings. “He’s dead.” The words sounded flat to my ears. “I know. But the Agency can still activate it long-distance, which is why I need you to turn this damned thing off. The bastards thought of everything—well, except for this, obviously.” “Right.” Jessie walked back to the computer. He rested his elbows on the desk, smirking. “We’ve got the GPS figured out. Jammer is on the way courtesy of a friend of mine.” He threw me a saucy wink. “Used to work in a chop shop. Until you find the chip to toss it out you have to jam it.” “Don’t tell me too much.” I chuckled. “And the plug itself?” His face went solemn. “Well, that’s another whole different ball of wax. I’ve got some ideas, but let me check out some things before I present them to you. Don’t have that many surgeons on my list, but I’ve got the word out.” Jessie’s voice dropped an octave. “Do you think they’d really kill you?” “They’ve already been popping heads today.” I nodded towards David. “I saw the news reports of heroes and villains dying without even getting into the fight. That’s not from the aliens, that’s the Agency.” David frowned, biting down on his lower lip. “Why would they do that?”

“Because no one wants to fight a battle you’re going to lose. Even the villains aren’t that stupid.” The mental image of Tan, lying there gasping his last breath, came to the forefront of my mind’s eye. “They must have said no and their Guardians pulled it. You refuse to fight, you get your plug pulled.” I waved a hand in the air. “And don’t get any ideas about us being patriotic or anything like that. It’s one thing to go into a fixed battle and another to go to what looks like certain death.” My throat felt tight. “If I had known what was going on before we left, I might have tried to talk Mike out of it.” “Then he would have killed you,” Jessie growled. “Maybe. Guess I’ll never know now.” I closed my eyes, trying not to think about the hundreds of times I had run that scenario through my mind. “That’s murder, no matter how you explain it away,” David said in a low, sad tone. “Especially when this Agency is supposed to be helping us fight these aliens. Killing supers who won’t fight is just…” He fell silent, unable to find the words. “Which is another whole problem.” I gestured towards the laptop. “Everyone thought that our arranged fights were real, right?” I continued without waiting for the two men to respond. “So what if someone or something monitoring our transmissions thought the same thing?” The redhead at the desk shrugged. “Probably think that you were the hot stuff like we all did.” He blushed, his attention on the computer screen. “So they figured that they’d take you on and win.” David rocked back and forth on the couch. “But then why stop?” I blinked. “What?” “Why stop? I mean, they’ve retreated back into their ships and are just hovering there, waiting.” He smacked his lips together. “Not a wise move if you want to invade a planet. Take out the top defenders and start moving your

ground troops in, get the boots on the ground. Instead they’re just sitting there. Not a very good military position to take.” “Thank goodness for that much.” Jessie hummed under his breath. “There should be a parcel at the front door in a few minutes.” David got to his feet. “I’m assuming I don’t need to sign for it.” “Better if you don’t.” Jessie chuckled. “Just bring it right up here and we’ll kick it into gear.” I shifted my position on the thin cushions. “Think this is going to work?” “Of course.” The smug tone in his voice had me laughing. “Thank your buddies for me.” Getting to my feet, I stretched out my arms, shaking the sleep out of them. The snap, crackle and pop as I arched my back startled me, reminding me that I was off my routine. Big time. Mike had always been keen on our daily exercises. He’d be pissed I’d forsaken them for a nap. Course we’d never talked about keeping up a routine in the middle of an alien invasion. Jessie stared at the screen, chewing on the inside of his mouth before speaking. “You ever want to quit?” “Every day,” I whispered. “Every fucking day.” The silence hung in the air between us, the sudden tightening in my chest reminding me that I had a lot to make up for. “It’s here.” David’s excited voice reverberated up the stairs. Jessie smiled as I walked to the steps and reached down to help the elderly man up. “You should tell your friends to have better manners.” He wagged a finger at Jessie before tossing him the small box wrapped in plain brown paper. “Bike messenger drove up and threw it at me. Left without even saying a word.” He sat on the couch.

“I’ll make a note.” Jessie ripped the paper off the box and tore the flaps open. “This should at least keep you off the radar for the time being.” The small black box was no more than three inches by two inches, the size of a cigarette pack with nothing more than a switch at one end. He toggled the metal stick and passed it to me. “Now you’re good.” I looked at it. “Seriously?” Turning it over and over, I weighed it in my hand. “Pretty light.” “Have to be. You’ll need to keep that within thirty feet of your transmitter to maintain the cloaking.” Jessie beamed, putting his feet up on the empty chair and rocking back, hands behind his head. “Don’t get too smug. If we’re lucky, the Agency hasn’t caught their collective breath and no one knows I’m here.” I tucked the box into the pocket of my leather jacket, over my heart. Good place for it. “Now, what about the plug?” “That…” he waved a finger in the air, “…can be dealt with.” His attention turned back to the laptop screen. “The problem here is that we don’t know the frequency it runs on. A GPS is one thing—we can get that info easy. But this, this is a bit more complicated.” A weak smile appeared on his face. “But they’re working on it. And by they I mean medical professionals looking to get a paper out of it at some point, so don’t be too shy.” I shrugged. “If we survive this, they can get a whole damned manual out of it. Right now I’m running on borrowed time.” My right hand tapped the plastic case in my pocket. “And this is going to help convince them of that.” “Good.” David reached for one of the juice cartons. “Now, what are you going to do?” I drew a deep breath. “What I’m supposed to do. I’m going to save the world.”

Blade of Moonlight

Blade of Moonlight

Blade of Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Blade Of Tyshalle

Myth of Moonlight

Wings of Moonlight

Whispers of Moonlight

Wings of Moonlight

Myth of Moonlight

Magic of the Moonlight

A Trace of Moonlight

Blade of Moonlight